After the End
by LMSharp
Summary: After Remus Lupin disappeared from her life on New Year's, 1984, Thea was never friends with him like she had been. But he never quite left the fringes of her life, either. A half-sequel, half-epilogue to my longer story, Making It Better a Little. Remus/OC friendship; Remus/Tonks; with appearances by a couple other HP characters, and mentions of quite a few more. T for safety on
1. October 1986

**Disclaimer: Remus Lupin still isn't mine in the sequel. **

I.

October 1986

For nearly three years after that New Year's Day, 1984, Thea Ramora didn't hear anything from Remus Lupin. She was heartbroken for a good five months, and after the ache faded, she was a different person. Slower to smile, warier of sitting down and striking up conversations with complete strangers at odd hours of the night.

But knowing, loving, and losing Remus Lupin didn't kill her, and she didn't stay heartbroken forever. She stopped looking for him on street corners, stopped asking after him whenever she visited back at Mel's or the university children's library.

Thea published two more collections of essays and short stories, and a novel for children. All were well-received, though she was still a long way from literary fame. She moved up to a full-time position at Crossroads, and she made new friends. Sometimes she dated, people Faith or Sarah Scott set her up with. The relationships never lasted longer than three months. She moved from her low-rent flat to a slightly higher-rent flat in a better neighborhood. Larry the Goldfish died at the ripe old age of four, and Thea got a cat and called him Michelangelo.

And in the Spring of 1986 she was planting flowers in that little park by the fairy grove (she had tried, but had never managed to get them to come out when she visited on her own), and Rhys Davison came walking by with his nose buried in a collection of modern poetry. Thea called out to him, and the two of them struck up a conversation. They talked about their respective works, about Thea's impending tour of the Continent, about how Rhys was trying to teach himself Russian to read Dostoevsky in the original, about where they'd been and what they'd seen.

Thea had grown, and changed. And at the end of their conversation, she asked him to coffee. The two of them started seeing one another again. And this time, whether because she had matured or because there was no one else in the background, things worked.

They kept the whole thing quiet. And when the wedding was held in October of 1986, there were only fifty people in the little church. So Thea saw quite clearly the one man in the back that hadn't been invited as she swept down the aisle, dressed in white on her father's arm, towards the man she would spend the rest of her life with. It didn't throw her off. Not now. Instead, she smiled at Remus Lupin. And he smiled back, a little sadly. Thea hoped that he would wait, that she could say hello, ask how things were with him. He looked tired. But Remus slipped out at the end of the wedding before she had a chance to greet him.

He didn't come to the reception. She thought about him for half a second, a little wistfully. She wondered what he'd been doing. But then her father was crying, and her mother-in-law was embracing her, and Rhys was kissing her, and it became very hard to remember Remus Lupin.

* * *

**A/N: So. This is a much shorter, even more plotless sequel to my story _Making it Better a Little. _If you haven't read _Making it Better a Little, _the random events that take place in this narrative, over a period of years, will make little or no sense to you. That isn't to force you to read the prequel. That's just fact. It just made more sense to me to publish this separately than to add this on to the main story. **

**If you enjoy it, though, leave a review and let me know. **

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	2. December 1987

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Remus Lupin. Oh, will the nightmare never end?**

II.

December 1987

Thea rocked back and forth, singing quietly. She didn't sing arias or pop music or rude bar songs nights these days. Complicated vocal runs and soaring high notes weren't near as important to an infant as meaningless, reassuring syllables and a soft voice. She smoothed the dark fuzz on Riley's little head. His eyelashes fluttered. He wasn't asleep quite yet. Not like his lump of a father, who was snoring soundly in the other room.

Thea laughed fondly and hugged her baby boy, her firstborn, her son to her, whispering nonsense and rocking back and forth, back and forth. Her eyelids were heavy with the weight of the sleep she was missing. But she didn't care. She didn't want to miss a single instant of this.

There was a rap on the window then, and Thea, laying Riley in his bassinet and drawing her robe about herself more securely, went to check. She opened the pane, and a ghostly white creature flew in silently and landed on the changing table. In the light of the low lamp, Thea made out an animal she had never thought she'd see again.

"Gracious, it is you, isn't it?" she murmured. "Archimedes. A bit grizzled about the beak there, huh?"

He clicked his beak, but quietly. Thea distinctly saw him look at the slumbering baby in the bassinet, and was grateful to the clever bird. He held out his leg to her, and Thea, in wonder, took the missive from his talon.

She opened it. The message it contained was short.

_Dear Thea,_

_ Happy Christmas, Mrs. Davison. Congratulations on the birth of your son. _

_ I knew things would work out for you. To see you so happy…it brightened my day today. _

_ Regards,_

_ R. Lupin_

Thea looked at this message quizzically for a moment. Then taking a quick look to her son- he was sleeping like a rock now- she beckoned to Archimedes and went to her desk, which she'd had Rhys move to the nursery the other day so she could work and watch the baby at the same time. She picked up a pen and a sheet of paper, and began to write back.

_Remus-_

_ You're not one to say things you don't mean. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find out that you've been watching, just like you said you would all those years ago. You did come to our wedding, after all, though no one had told you about it. In anyone else I'd think that sort of watchfulness was creepy. In you, it seems to fit somehow. But it makes me sad. _

_ If the MOM had eased up on you, I know you wouldn't have left me years without word from you. We were such good friends. Still, I ought to be angry. I hardly think they're intercepting your mail. Werewolves can't bite people via owl post. You could have dropped a line before this. It would have been good to hear from you. _

_ But I can't be angry with anyone, Remus. Not now. Riley is sleeping just a few feet away from where I sit writing you this letter. He looks a perfect angel, for all he was squawking like a devil not half an hour ago. I'm glad you know about him. I want the world to know about him. I didn't know I could feel this way, and it makes me wonder all over again how my mother was able to leave us, all those years ago. _

_ Remus, please say you're alright. I want the world to be alright, tonight. Say that, even if you're not happy, you're healthy. By the by, you were wrong, all those years ago. Werewolves ought to be happy, the same as everyone else. You never gave me the chance to tell you that. And say you'll write back. It can't hurt, anymore. And I've wondered- from time to time- just where you've been and what you've been doing. _

_ Whether you do or not, I'm going to go to the kitchen, straight after I finish this letter. All these people from work and church have been sending Rhys and me frozen suppers for weeks now, as if I somehow forgot to cook when I gave birth. I think I remember a container from the Fosters, with a roast beef sandwich and an enormous piece of chocolate cake. Archimedes is a big, strong, smart, and highly capable bird. I know he'll get it to you safe._

_ Happy Christmas, Remus Lupin. All the best to you, always. _

_ Thea Davison_


	3. July 1988

**Disclaimer: Thea and her family are mine. But she _will_ keep running into Remus Lupin and denying me the profit**

* * *

III.

July 1988

It had been a very cold and damp summer. But it hadn't rained a few days ago, when the pallbearers had lowered the casket carrying Michael Ramora's body into the muddy ground. Nor had the sun shone. Instead, the clouds had hung stubbornly over the churchyard in Surrey. They had put Thea in mind of a frowning coffin lid themselves, burying her, and the whole world alive.

But Rhys had been there then. Like he'd been there when they had lowered Cassidy's tiny casket into the ground last month. They'd both grieved over their little daughter, born far too soon, who'd never even drawn her first breath in the world. But Rhys had had to leave for a meeting back in London before Thea had quite finished helping her sisters clean up after the funeral. He'd taken Riley with him. He wanted to help, wanted to make things easier for her. He thought she needed time to grieve with her sisters, time to think. He was so good. He'd been trying so hard, and he was mourning too, she knew it. But he didn't understand that the last thing Thea needed right now was to be alone.

But she was alone now, getting off the bus in London, and now the sullen skies had at last decided to open. Rain pelted Thea's uncovered head and face, soaked her jacket and loose blue jeans. Thea couldn't bring herself to care. All the world seemed dark, and cold, though it was midsummer. The people passing by were faceless strangers. And oh, she hurt. She hurt for her father, the kind and wise old teacher, that guiding presence in her life, that had gone and left her at last to be grown up all alone. And she hurt for her baby. And they didn't know! They didn't care! Oh, it wasn't fair, it wasn't right. And though rain ran down her face, dripped off her nose and chin, her eyes were dry. Cruelly, mercilessly dry. They had been dry for weeks, and she felt as if she might explode.

Thea swallowed, shaking her head. The water flew off of the ends of her hair and dripped off her sodden jacket. And suddenly, she noticed that beside her was walking a man. He'd been there for a while. She looked at him.

He was thin, almost skeletal, and his face was prematurely lined. His jacket was old and much-patched, and his wet hair had a few strands of grey in it. But if he had been five or six years younger, she might have known him well.

Thea gasped, and stopped. He was looking at her, had been for a while. And now he wordlessly stepped closer, sheltering her beneath his umbrella. "How did you…?" Thea began, and then she was sobbing. Because at last, here was someone who _did_ know. And it didn't matter that the two of them had only exchanged Christmas and birthday cards for six months, and been out of touch for years before that, because he was here now, when it mattered.

He wrapped an arm around her, and she sobbed into his dirty, patched-up jacket. Even now, he didn't speak. He just held her with one arm, and the umbrella with the other, and let her cry, and beat his chest with angry hands. And he heard her cry that it wasn't _fair_, it wasn't _right, _and how could the minister have said that God is good when her _baby_ hadn't lived to be loved like her brother, and she still needed her father? And then he did speak. "I know. I know. Come on. Let's get you out of the rain."

He hesitated, on the corner by Mel's- almost turned in towards the old café. "It was raining, too, that first night," he told her. "That's why I came in. Do you want to go?" But Thea shook her head. "I'll walk you home, then," he said.

And Thea shook her head again. "No. Later I'll- but Remus…" she trailed off, and looked up at him with helpless, tear-dimmed eyes. But he seemed to understand. And he waited with her at another bus stop, and the bus took the two of them to a neighborhood still poorer, still more temporary-looking than that in which he had lived when Thea had known him. He took her to a tiny, dirty little complex, with doors discoloured by smoke, and windows that not infrequently had been shattered by burglars. But Remus' door was clean, and his windows were dirty, but intact. And Thea recognised the old brown welcome mat in front. Inside, she thought she heard Archimedes hooting.

She didn't have the energy to look around, to ask why Remus was living here, where he was working. So she let him lead her inside without commenting and place her on the worn-out old brown couch. And she didn't even ask why the wall-space above it no longer had a hanging talking portrait of Churchill on it, or why the books were stacked against the wall, instead of on bookcases. He was gone now- somewhere in the kitchen, moving with that annoyingly silent tread of his. Maybe that was how he'd known, that's how he'd been keeping up with her. She'd forgotten- how he made next to no noise when he walked, how his grace had irritated her when they were friends next to her persistant klutziness. Rhys dropped and lost things, sometimes. It made her feel better about herself when he did.

Thea hugged herself, hard. She shouldn't be here. Why was she here, with this man she hadn't seen for years on the wrong side of town? Rhys would be expecting her home, with Riley. Had she called to say she'd be coming home? She couldn't remember. She should go. But then Remus came back in, bearing steaming peppermint tea in one of the chipped brown mugs she remembered. He draped the throw he had at the bottom of the sofa around her. And she shivered, and looked up at him, and decided to stay, just for a while.

* * *

"I'd forgotten," she said, later, when she'd dried off and had a cup and a half of tea. She stared down at her hands. It was easier not to look at him. "It's been so long- I'd forgotten just how much it _hurts."_

"All those people who say it gets better with time," he said quietly, "It's a lie, because it never stops hurting, not really. But it's true, too, because time does dull the pain."

Now she looked at him. "And you- you've been through this over and _over_ again! With your mother, and then the war, and your father…?" her voice rose up on a question, and he inclined his head.

"A couple of years ago," he said. "But never a child. Never that."

Thea hesitated. "There's never been…?"

He shook his head. "I'm still a werewolf. And they keep passing laws. There won't be anyone for me, Thea." He was quiet a moment. "It's better that way," he said at last, in a low voice.

Thea's heart turned over in her chest and she whirled to face him, spilling her tea. "That's not true!" she cried. "Remus, even if Rhys died tomorrow, or we got divorced, or one of us came down with some horrible illness so being together was just a burden, it's better to be in it with someone than to stand out on the sidelines for fear of what _might_ happen. It's better to hurt, and love, and hurt again, and fight, and hurt some more, and _still choose to love_ than to wait, and to be alone. You taught me that."

Remus started to pull out his wand to address the tea soaking into Thea's jeans, but then he put it back up. Instead, he got up, went to the kitchen, and came back with a towel. He started to mop up the liquid. His face was sad. "_I _taught you that, did I?" he murmured.

Thea took the towel from him and resumed soaking up spilled tea. She couldn't smile. But she nodded. "When you left, you did," she answered.

"Thea—"

She held up a hand to stop him. "I don't regret it. I love my husband. I love the life we've built together. I love our child." Her face creased in pain and she took a breath. "And that's why I can tell you now that it's worth it. To love. And that you really shouldn't be stupid and keep yourself from doing it."

But that was as much as she could manage. Her face crumpled again, and she covered her face with the tea-soaked dishcloth. She had to take several more deep breaths before she could look up again. "How did you know?" she asked then. "You always know. About Rhys and me, then when Riley was born, and now…"

Remus shrugged. "I don't have so many friends that I can afford to lose track of the ones that I've got," he said off-handedly. Then, more seriously, "I check up on you, and Rhys, every few months. It's what we wizards do when we don't have access to a telephone. It's sporadic, so they don't notice a pattern and start following me again. But if something terrible happened and I wasn't there for you, when you needed me…" he shrugged again and allowed Thea to draw her own conclusions. "I owe you that much," he said. "And you're still one of the most incredible people it's been my privilege to know."

Thea frowned. "You ought to say hello during these 'check-ups' so I can return the favour," she said weakly. "You're not well, are you?" She looked back up at him.

Remus didn't look at her. "I've been worse."

Thea sighed. "Come here," she said. She grabbed hold of his hand simply and put her head on his shoulder. He obligingly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her there.

"Thanks," she said. "For the tea, and for being here."

"Whenever,"said Remus.

"Just write, okay? Do that much," Thea said. "I've missed you. And it can't hurt me, not now."

Remus was silent, but he nodded, and Thea felt his head move against hers.

They sat there for a while more. Then Thea shifted. "Take me home?" she asked.

He stood. "Yeah. Will you be alright?"

Thea stood, too. "I'll be alright," she said. "The sun goes on rising, doesn't it? You count your successes and you're grateful for your blessings, and you let the darkness take care of itself. And eventually, you find you've moved on." The words were a little forced, a little hollow. But Remus smiled at her.

"So I've heard, Thea Davison," he said quietly. "There now. Stand tall. You ready?"

"Mmmhmm."

He opened the umbrella, and together, they walked back into the rain.

He took the bus with her all the way back to her side of town, and walked her as far as the street corner. Then, with one last hand clasp, he left. But the rain had stopped. The sun was starting to shine weakly through the clouds. And when Thea opened her front door and called out, Rhys was waiting for her, with supper ready and a warm hug. And Riley was waiting, with a sticky kiss.


	4. March 1989

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley, like Remus Lupin before them, are entirely creations of J.K. Rowling that I here make no pretensions to, save in honour and admiration of her genius.**

IV.

March 1989

One of the best things about being a successful writer of children's stories, Thea thought, was that grammar schools were always asking her to come read to the children themselves.

Thea had never quite gotten over her nervousness around men and women with loud laughs in business casual attire, but children were different. Thea placed a hand over her gently curved stomach, as she exited the car. Children were quite as capable of rational thought as adults were, but they were different, too. More energetic. More honest. She loved them, with their horribly inappropriate curiosity and their black-and-white moralities and their accidental comedy. And children still listened to what she told them, and thought about what they'd heard, even if they didn't agree.

The reading itself was fun, too. She could act like a total idiot, and no one cared. To play in the fantasy worlds she'd created with people who would meet her there, to speak in silly voices and sing silly songs and speak solemn truths as only the very young or writers could, was a luxury. And she reveled in it. Sometimes there were little friends she met, kindred spirits under five feet tall. Kids with wide, solemn eyes, quick minds, and questions. She loved questions.

For example, there had been a girl last week- one with frizzy brown hair and a Greek name- what had it been? Chloe? Electra? No- Hermione, after the daughter of Helen. That one had sat by herself in the corner of her school library rug. She had been very quiet during Thea's reading, but her eyes had been riveted on Thea's face. And when her bigger, more talkative classmates had gone to gym, the Hermione girl had stayed, and asked Thea a lot of in-depth analytical questions, before shyly saying she had really enjoyed Thea's longer novel, and some of her more adult essays, shaking her hand like a much older person, and stealing away just as the teacher came back to yell at her for tardiness to gym. Thea had seen something of herself in that one, even if as a child _she_ wouldn't have ventured to tell to an author how best to interpret the book she had written.

Thea walked into the school and went to the receptionist's desk("So glad you could come, Ms. Ramora" –she never had taken to going by her married name professionally, a choice Rhys had approved of). She was escorted to the library and shown the rocking chair in the middle of the mandatory reading rug. This one had the alphabet on it, around a colourful picture of the globe with children holding hands around it. It was back to Surrey today. A very suburban, and rather new neighborhood. It actually wasn't too far from Thea's own childhood home. Far enough that she hadn't ever been here before, but close enough that she definitely knew where she was. Another family lived in the little grey house with the green shutters now, and Ginnifer had moved to Edinburgh with her husband the pastor, and Faith was just out of university in London, working at a little café not too different from Mel's and trying out for commercials, shows, trying to break out on the musical theatre scene. But the whole area still felt a little like home.

The kids that filed in now, behind the middle-aged, bottle blonde teacher wearing too much eye shadow, looked like the kids Thea had gone to school with. There was the athlete in the football jersey, laughing and joking with his mates. There were the trio of giggling girls, with their pink hair ribbons. There was the boy that wouldn't pay attention during the story, walking in with a smirk at Thea, jabbing his rat-faced friend in the ribs with an elbow.

Thea smiled as they sat down, and looked steadily at her feet as the librarian introduced her and told the kids what an honour it was that she had come. She made a face behind the librarian's back, and the kids laughed. And she opened her book- the one about how Sylvia, without being able to do anything in the Right Way, still managed to do things at the Right Time, and thus saved the Town- and she began to read.

At first it was going well. The children were laughing at the right times, and she'd gotten a few impertinent comments already. Liz and Michael in particular were enjoying the story. But then the problem kid of the bunch started being especially annoying.

There were always children during Thea's readings that caused her a little trouble. But this kid, a heavyset, pink-cheeked, narrow-eyed blonde boy of about nine or so, was causing another kid trouble, too. He was paying little or no attention to the story. Instead, he was focused on poking, prodding, pinching, and jeering in whispers at another, smaller boy, one who looked like he _was_ trying to listen. Thea saw them from over the top of her book. She couldn't see the smaller kid clearly, he was facing off to the side, but he jumped as the blonde bully gave him a particularly painful pinch. She looked at the teacher. The woman's brow was knit, watching the two boys, and she frowned, but her shoulders sagged, as if she had tried and failed to stop this very scene one too many times.

Another poke, but this time, the smaller boy impatiently batted aside the larger one's hand and shifted on the rug so he was farther away from his tormenter, and facing Thea. He looked up, and Thea paused for a split-second in her reading. She recognised him. She recognised them both.

He was older, but unmistakable, this scrawny little kid in oversized clothes, clothes that, Thea realised, must have first belonged to his tormentor. He adjusted his round spectacles, still a bit too big for his face, over those brilliantly green eyes, and fidgeted with his messy black hair. It was still the messiest hair that Thea had ever seen. It parted for just a moment, and she saw the lightning scar.

Harry Potter's cousin moved in again to prod him once more. This time, though, Thea did stop her reading. She was angry now. "Dudley Dursley," she said. "Leave him alone. Miss Hampton, would it be too much trouble if Dudley sat back there with you? I'm afraid he's causing a disturbance."

Dudley's rat-faced friend sniggered, and Dudley's piggy eyes narrowed suspiciously at Thea. She could read it in his eyes. How had she known his name? But Miss Hampton beckoned, and Dudley sulkily waddled back there without complaint. Thea ignored him. She smiled at Harry Potter, but he gazed back, quite coolly. A little unnerved, Thea continued the story.

* * *

After other classes had come and gone from the library, when school had been dismissed and the other children were walking home or being picked up by their parents, Harry Potter found Thea in the library. "You didn't help, you know," he said without preamble. "Earlier. Dudley and his mates will be waiting for me, to get me back for what you said to him. I can't get away. I live with the idiot."

Thea sighed. She'd thought of that, after she'd reprimanded the blonde bully. She knew Harry spoke the truth. She'd been bullied enough at school herself. "I didn't think of that at the time," she admitted to him. "All I thought was that he was hurting you, Harry, and right then, I could stop him."

Something in Harry's small, pale face softened, though his stance remained rigid. "I know you, don't I?" he asked. "You know my name, and Dudley's. I run into people like that, sometimes."

Thea smiled sadly. "I saw you once before, it's true," she told him, zipping up her bag. But she remained seated. "You were probably too little to remember. But I do, because a good friend of mine then was also a good friend of yours."

Harry regarded her. "I don't have any friends." The words were harsh, blunt; horridly matter-of-fact.

Thea clutched her bag tight to avoid wincing at the boy's tone. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "Really, Harry, I am. But believe me, you're not as alone as you think. Or you won't be forever."

Harry looked at her left hand and her belly, and raised an eyebrow. "That's easy for you to say," he told her. He looked at the librarian then, and the clock.

The librarian, a nice elderly lady named Mrs Berenson, smiled. "It's no trouble, Harry dear, Ms Ramora," she called from the desk. "You stay as long as you like."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Harry Potter's face. "Thanks, Mrs Berenson." And, despite his prior hostility, he plopped down opposite Thea. "I liked your book, Mrs Ramora," he told her.

"Mrs Davison, actually," Thea told him. "I use my maiden name on my books because I started writing before I married my husband."

Harry considered this. Then, as kids do, he ignored the statement and went on to ask the question of greater personal interest. "Who did you know that knew me?" he asked. "I've been with the Dursleys—with my aunt and uncle—as long as I can remember. And no one they know notices me."

Thea shook her head. "I was good friends with an old friend of your father's once," she said. "He told me about you."

"Did you know my parents?" Harry asked quickly. His eyes lit up, his face brightened. He looked an entirely different boy for a moment.

Thea sighed. "I wish I had. From what my friend said, they were wonderful people."

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia say my dad was useless," Harry said, his face darkening again as he stared at the wall. "They never talk about him. Or my mum."

"Oh, Harry- if only…" but Thea broke off.

"Don't," he said, looking up suddenly. He flashed her a bright smile, a charm-the-birds-from-their-nests smile. But it was for her, not for him. "You get used to it, after a while. It's not so bad."

"Really?" Thea asked gently.

His smile tightened. "Yeah, so it is. But I've learned to manage."

Thea checked her watch, and her heart sank. "Harry, I—"

"You got a family, and they'll be waiting for you," he finished for her. "I get it. Well. I have to go back home sometime." He shrugged off-handedly, and Thea was struck once again, as she had been a little over five years prior, by the incredible bravery of this kid.

"Let 'em wait," she said, all at once. "They'll keep. I'll walk you part of the way home, okay?"

Harry looked up at her curiously, but made no protest, and groaning, Thea got to her feet. "You're gonna have a kid, huh?" he asked.

She nodded. "At the start of September, we think. Thanks, Mrs Berenson," she added to the librarian.

"No problem at all. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Potter."

"Yeah," he called. To Thea, he said. "Is it your first kid?"

"No. I have a son, too. He'll be two soon."

Harry considered her gravely for a moment. "I think you'd be a good mum," he said reflectively. "You care about kids, but you don't talk like some of the teachers at school, like me 'n the others can't understand anything. And you let Liz ask all those questions. Miss Hampton never lets her do that."

"Well, thanks for that, Harry Potter," she told him. "I'm glad that you approve of my maternal skills, being all of eight years old and therefore an excellent judge." He laughed at that, looking a little surprised at her joke.

"No, I didn't mean to be rude or anything, honest," he said. "It's just, I think about mums, sometimes." His face went dark again, and Thea regretted the comment.

He turned onto a street that seemed to turn its nose down at the both of them. All the lawns were manicured, all the house fronts almost exactly the same. They seemed to say, not just to Harry, but to Thea, too, 'You don't belong here'. She whistled. "This your street?"

He snorted. "Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's and Dudley's, more like. I'm constantly reminded that I only exist here 'cause they were good enough to take me in."

As she had felt in front of a candy shop once before, Thea eerily felt as if she were speaking to a much older person. She shot a hasty glance at the skinny kid walking beside her, and he shot her a very ironic, cynical gaze for such a small boy. Then he slowed. "There's Dudley and Piers," he said, looking ahead in the deepening shadows at two shadows down the road. Now his voice had gone quiet, minus the confidence and bravery he had spoke with before. "I told you they'd be waiting, Mrs Davison."

Thea hesitated. "I can go with you to the door," she said. "Talk to your aunt and uncle. I'm sure if they knew Dudley was behaving so badly—"

"They won't care," Harry said bitterly. "Aunt Petunia says he's misunderstood. Uncle Vernon says if little nancy boys like me can't deal with a bit of high spirits they deserve what's coming to them. And Dudley'd just be worse tomorrow."

"I can't just…"

Harry shot her that dizzying smile again. "Don't worry about me, Mrs Davison. I'm faster than I look. Dudley and Piers- they're slow. And stupid. Pig in a wig and his stoogey friend, that's all. I can handle them."

"You shouldn't have to," Thea murmured. "Harry- it _will_ get better. I promise. One day—"

Harry's face softened again and for a minute, Thea could see the bright little kid, starved for love, that so badly wanted to believe her, so badly wanted to stay where he could be heard, and cared about. She saw him, behind the cynical, brave little boy in the clothes much too big for him. "I hope so," he whispered. "And Mrs Davison—thanks."

And with that, he was off like a shot, running down Privet Drive towards Number Four. Thea heard shouts, saw Dudley and Piers start to give chase. But Harry was right, the bullies were slow. He made it. The door slammed, and she distinctly heard shouted curses down the street, and then a woman yelling, not at the bullies, but at the bullied.

A tear rolled down Thea's cheek. She wondered if she should call someone. Child services. Or that man Dumbledore, who'd put Harry with the Dursleys in the first place. Did Dumbledore even have a telephone number? And would he listen? And was it too late, to undo the damage the Dursleys had done to Harry Potter?

* * *

In the end she wrote Remus, hoping she wouldn't be too terribly culpable for not doing any more. She hoped he'd do something, thought he'd try. She sent the report in via ordinary post, thankful she knew Remus' address, that very evening.

And when she felt nauseous after supper that night, when Riley wouldn't eat, and screamed and yelled at her and then cried himself to sleep in a temper, she watched him. Then she knelt beside his toddler bed and kissed his hot little cheek. "You have no idea how lucky you are, baby," she told him in a whisper. "Because I love you anyway, even though I made you eat those nasty peas. I will always, always love you. And your father loves you, will always love you. And your baby brother or sister, they'll love you, too. And it's not like that for everyone, honey. I'm so glad you don't know that yet. It's not like that for everyone."

And then she went out of Riley's room, and to her husband, who was waiting for her with some chamomile tea and a massage. She kissed him, hard and fervently. "We are so, so, blessed," she said.

"I'd've thought you'd be out of your mind, Thea-girl, with all that's gone on tonight," he said.

She shook her head. "No. Every so often something reminds me just how good we have it, and the worst day is turned into a song. Today was like that." Her eyes stung then, and another tear rolled down her face for James and Lily Potter, for left-behind Remus, for Harry Potter, orphaned and unloved.

Rhys sat across from her and grabbed her hands. "It's alright," he said. "You're alright."

"We are," Thea agreed. "I am. But not everyone is."

And the next day, care of Mrs Berenson at the Magnolia Street Grammar School in Little Whinging, she sent Harry Potter a complimentary copy of the book she had read. In the front, she had written,

_One day, Harry. I promise. Your Friend, Thea Davison._

* * *

**A/N: So this is new. I didn't expect this scene to end up in this story until perhaps a week ago when I was finishing up the prequel. Rather like I didn't expect the prequel to take the direction it took. **

**I'm not sure I was completely true to 8 year-old Harry behaviour, or Harry behaviour when relating to strangers. I've never liked Harry and his two best friends half so well as the secondary characters that surround them. But he is the protagonist, and while writing this aftermath story I thought, writers came to my school, when I was little. They read their books in the library, on special occasions. Thea writes children's books, among other things. What if...? And I ran with it. Try to forgive me, if I need forgiveness. I'll grant that Harry might _act_ a little OOC, but I think I was _entirely_ true to the spirit of who he is as a person, and my conscience is clear on that account. And I'll add these reason for his openness in the chapter: he's not a celebrity. He doesn't feel like hiding from everyone he meets yet, doesn't know how it feels to only matter for what he's done or will do. He's a lonely little unloved kid that's had to live neglected with eyes wide open to injustice for way too long. And he never tried to hide that from others. He never was polite to the Dursleys. He never covered up how they'd treated him when talking to anyone else, in the books. **

**In any event, I hope, despite the inaccuracies I may or may not be guilty of, I hope you enjoyed this installment. The other eight are in the works! I might have _Autumn 1993_ up as early as Sunday. **

**Drop a review, if you would, in the little box at the bottom. I'd enjoy receiving your feedback.**

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	5. Autumn 1993

**Disclaimer: As we move into chapters where Thea hears some of what's going on in Rowling's novels, I can claim even less of the content than before. And it wasn't like I could claim it before.**

* * *

V.

Autumn 1993

In later years, when she thought back on it, Thea Davison couldn't recall any time that she had run into the magical world in any big way from the day she read to the - Street Grammar School in March 1989 until the day that Rhys turned on the news one evening in August of 1993, and the headlining story was that of an escaped prison convict.

Riley and Alice were playing, rather boisterously, on the floor, and Thea was holding the youngest, Andrew, in her lap, trying to teach him new words, so she almost missed it. "-Black, citizens should be—"

"Good God," Rhys said from his chair. "Where did he come from? I should hope state prisoners are treated better than that. The man is filthy, and he looks completely mad!"

Thea looked up. "What was that?"

"Prisoner's escaped from somewhere," Rhys told her. "But they forgot to say where from. Why, he could be anywhere. A Sirius Black. A very dangerous mass-murderer, apparently."

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but at first, Thea couldn't recall where she'd heard it. Alice had come up, yelling, "Mummy, mummy, he keeps knocking down my castles! _Every_ time! Tell him to _stop_!"

And Riley was explaining, quite logically, "I'm an ogre. It's my _job_ to knock down castles. Mum writes about it. Isn't that right, dad?" He let out a very pitiful imitation of an ogre roar.

"RAAAWR!" cried Andrew, delightedly mimicking his elder brother, whom he already idolised. Alice rolled her eyes, every inch the exasperated only girl stuck with two idiot brothers, all three feet of her.

And Rhys and Thea put aside thinking about Sirius Black to act as judges for their three young children, while the news went on to tell of a charity event being sponsored in the fall.

It wasn't until three in the morning that Thea woke up in a cold sweat. She had remembered, all of a sudden, where she had heard Sirius Black's name before. He was the man that twelve years ago, on November 1, 1981, had blown up a street. He was the man that had killed Peter Pettigrew, and twelve other people, in an explosively destructive rage. He was the man that had betrayed James and Lily Potter to a dark wizard, so that they had died on October 31, 1981. He was the reason the kid Harry Potter was an orphan living with relatives that despised him. And he had once been one of Remus Lupin's best friends.

Thea got out of bed so quickly that Rhys woke up. "Hunh?" he grunted sleepily. "Thea? Something the matter?"

She shook her head. "No. Go back to bed. Sudden inspiration. I have to write."

It wasn't a lie. Thea never lied to Rhys. But she hadn't ever told him the truth, either. It wasn't her truth to tell. Rhys' breathing slowed again, and Thea left the room and went down the corridor to the study.

There were two desks here, for both Rhys and Thea to use for their writing. Neither of them had PCs, but Rhys had a typewriter he used for his essays and the great novel he was trying to write. His notes were neatly filed away and the manuscript was stacked on his desk with a sculpted Shakespeare head as a paperweight atop the pile. In contrast, Thea's desk was cluttered. Papers from a dozen different projects were stuffed in cubbyholes and at least three different spirals and seven different pens were cast all about. Now she shoved the junk to the side, binning a particularly terrible draft of an essay she was working on about the virtues of talking to strangers and the importance of community. She pulled out a drawer and put down one of the heavier sheets of paper she used to write letters.

Her hand shook as she wrote, telling Remus she had just heard about Black's escape- from Azkaban? She asked what the wizarding authorities were doing, and how Remus was feeling. She implored him not to do anything rash, and asked why in the world, after twelve years, Black had taken it into his head to escape Azkaban _now_. She folded the letter, put it in an envelope, addressed it to him (at his fourth address since they'd started writing frequently), stamped it, and went down in her dressing gown to put it in the box.

The letter was returned to her next week as undeliverable. So she burned it.

* * *

She did, however, get a letter from Remus in mid-October, owl-post after midnight. The owl was one she didn't recognise. Archimedes had died at last in the winter of '89, and since Remus had used Muggle post to contact her. She guessed he'd gotten a new one, or something.

The female screech was quite a bit haughtier than Archimedes had been. She wouldn't come inside. She didn't accept food or drink, but stayed firmly attached to the window sill, looking down her beak at Thea, as though she knew that Thea was but a common Muggle. She clacked her beak impatiently as Thea read the letter.

_Dear Thea,_

_ Yes, so I finally took Albus up on his annual offer of a teaching position. I can _feel_ you gloating all the way from Hogwarts. I'm professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts here, and borrowing one of the school post owls to let you know. _

_ It hadn't occurred to me that your letters wouldn't reach me here until I'd been here two months without a line from you and started to wonder why. Then I recalled that, of course, Hogwarts doesn't get Muggle post. Forgive me for the oversight. I've been amazingly, wonderfully busy. _

_ I find that I rather enjoy teaching. Many of my students are behind. Their instruction in the subject has been, at best, sporadic and varied. But I've drawn up my plans, and for the most part, I'm having little trouble and much fun with my classes. _

_ It's amazing, too, that a potion has been invented that keeps me under control when the moon is full. It makes the experience much easier to bear. Normally I can't get Wolfsbane Potion. The ingredients are rather rare, and even if I could come by them, I'm an indifferent potioneer at best, as I believe I've told you. Fortunately, Albus has decreed that I'm to have the full resources of Hogwarts at my disposal to best deal with my condition. The Potions Master here, though he has little love for yours truly, makes the concoction for me every month. And he's quite possibly the best in the world. Certainly the best in Britain right now. With his help, I'm quite comfortable here at Hogwarts. And no one outside the staff knows of my condition. That's another gift from Albus. It was he, of course, that allowed me to study at Hogwarts in the first place, all those years ago. It's a commonly held belief in the wizarding world that Albus Dumbledore is a little bit mad. But I'm sure that I shall owe him until the end of time. _

_ Harry Potter is at school here. He's in his third year. Thea, you would not believe how much like James he looks. You told me, of course. You described him. But you couldn't know. The first day I saw him, on the Hogwarts Express, had it not been for his eyes, I might have thought it was my old friend standing in front of me again, about to propose we go off on another insane escapade. Of course, Harry is _not _his father. He has been through much already, and it shows. He's a more serious boy than his father was, and very much more modest. He is not fond of his fame here, and seems to have only two very close friends, a brilliant young witch named Hermione Granger, and Arthur Weasley's youngest son, Ron. _

_ I haven't told him that I went to school once with his father. I'm his teacher now, after all, and I'm trying to keep the relationship professional. But I won't hesitate to tell you, Thea, that I very much enjoy teaching him in particular. Quite apart from any prior knowledge I had of him, Harry is so far the best in his year at Defence. _

_ Send a letter back with the owl, will you? She's stuck-up, so far as owls go, but at least that means she takes great pride in her capabilities as a carrier of important wizardly letters. How's your family? Riley starts grammar school next year, doesn't he? If you're still educating him at home, he'll be bored stiff the first several classes. Unless you let him move ahead. How's Rhys' novel coming? What about your own? Have you had any success in setting up that holiday for the five of you in the Alps this Christmas? _

_ -Remus_

Thea looked over the letter. The Hogwarts owl clacked her beak. Thea frowned. The letter she held was the happiest letter she had ever received from Remus. The words almost seemed to bounce off the page. But she couldn't help from noticing one glaring absence in it.

She pulled out a sheet of paper, and she wrote.

_Remus-_

_ The holiday's on. Thanks for asking. Andrew has a cold, but it's better than it was last week. Rhys is revising the third draft of his novel; he's due to send it off next month. I think it's his best yet. _

_ This Hogwarts owl you've sent is intimidating. She's fixing me with her orange gaze and ruffling her feathers as if to say, 'Hurry it up already, you stupid Muggle! I have places much more important to be.' _

_ So I shall cut to the heart of the matter. It sounds like you're doing very well. I'm glad you're getting to know Harry, and I'm glad you're comfortable. If it weren't for one thing, I might start dancing across the floor in joy for you. But that one thing makes my blood run cold, and you haven't mentioned it at all, which makes me think you don't want to scare me._

_ Sirius Black, Remus. I've heard no news that he's been caught, so I assume he's still at large. What are they doing about him? More specifically, what are _you_ doing about him? Why has he escaped now, after all this time? What is he after? _

_ Stay safe at Hogwarts, Remus, and don't do anything stupid, please. I've seen pictures on television, and it looks like whatever your Azkaban did to him, it's driven what sanity he possessed right out of his head, and he was insane before. Just- be careful._

_ Wishing you (and Harry) the Best,_

_ Thea_

* * *

**A/N: I intentionally left the name of Harry's grammar school blank up there. I like the idea of shrouding place-names in mystery. Especially Harry-related place names. That, and Little Whinging is a fictional Rowling-neighbourhood in Surrey. And I don't even know Surrey. Or anywhere in the U.K., though you can bet that I want to find out someday. As some of you have noticed, though I try for cultural accuracy, I am in fact American. **

**Otherwise, this isn't my favourite mini-chapter. At all. I really liked the last one, with Harry in it. But there are a few of them I'm planning in which nothing much happens. Filler-chapters, where a whole lot is happening on Remus' end, and not much on Thea's but worrying and/or being happy for her old friend. But don't worry. I've got something HUGE planned in the ninth instalment of this fic. We're talking worlds colliding, where the consequences of Thea's friendship with Remus finally, finally catch up with her and her family. The good. But also the bad. So stay tuned. The next couple chapters are going to be short ones. But only 'cause I've got trouble brewing in the background. **

**Leave a review to tell me what you think of the fic!**

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	6. June 1994

**Disclaimer: If you're confused, that's because J.K. Rowling takes an entire novel to explain what I've tried to summarise in four pages. Her work is better. That's why she's a multi-millionaire, and I'm sitting here writing a fanfiction that uses her brilliance as a crutch. Don't own it. Got it?**

* * *

VI.

June 1994

That Christmas, the Davisons were on the ski slopes of the Alps, and for whatever reason, Remus' usual Season's Greetings didn't find Thea there. The orange she'd saved and the letter she'd written went unsent, and Boxing Day she spent about five minutes, in between running after Alice (who apparently had decided to become the daredevil of the family at four years old), worrying about her friend, Harry Potter, and the escaped murderer.

But when spring came around again, and Rhys was out about England promoting the finished novel that would come out in the fall, another owl flew into the study window. This one was not half so intimidating. It looked to be just a fledgling, a barn owl, like Archimedes had been, but female this time. It landed on the back of the chair, and Thea was incredibly glad that the children were visiting Gin and her kids in Edinburgh so she could spend a week uninterrupted working on her own projects. The owl picked at a loose thread in the collar of Thea's shirt.

Thea opened the missive. It was several pages thick, in fine print, and she had to read it three times in succession before she could make any sense at all of it. Remus himself apparently didn't quite know what to think of what had happened this year. It was a happy one, even happier than the one she'd received in the autumn, even though Remus was looking for a job again (he hadn't been fired this time-he'd resigned. Thea didn't understand _why _exactly, from what he wrote she couldn't see that he'd failed in his duties. On the contrary, she thought he had been a professor that had gone above and beyond the call of duty, and, anyway, he had Dumbledore's protection, didn't he?) But the whole thing had been written in a dizzy confusion of delight, and once Thea had worked past that to read the story he told, that was so hopelessly convoluted that she read the letter twice more.

But when she was finished, she beckoned to the owl (Remus', a gift he'd called Iris, after the Greek messenger goddess of the rainbow), went to the kitchen, and set out a saucer of water and some raw sausage. Then she went upstairs, all the way up to the attic, to the boxes where she kept her important papers. It was there, in the box that contained important documents from before she married Rhys. In between early drafts of her first young adult novel, the one she'd never published, and the letter she'd gotten informing her of her hire-on at Crossroads, she found the Xerox copy of a newspaper article Ms Austin had made for her all those years ago.

She took it, and went back downstairs to the kitchen. She made herself a cup of peppermint tea, got a couple of biscuits from the jar, and sat down across from Iris. The owl looked up at her with curious golden eyes and hooted softly before tearing into the sausage again. Thea ran a forefinger over the fledgling's head absently, and surveyed the old picture of Sirius Black, the one that had been taken November 1, 1981.

She remembered thinking, the first time she'd seen the article, and connected the story to Remus, that it didn't make sense, that Sirius Black looked arrogant, angry, grief-stricken, guilty, hopeless, and surprised, but that he didn't look like a murderer. She remembered she had been horrified at the incongruity of it all. Well, in the light of Remus' recent letter, her instincts had been right on.

_The evidence was overwhelming, but it was wrong. We were all wrong, Thea!_

Sirius Black had suspected Remus for the spy close to the Potters just like everyone else, all those years ago. So, when James and Lily had come to him to keep them safe, to be the Secret-Keeper for the Fidelius Charm (Thea didn't understand that bit, but she presumed it meant that only he would have known the Potters location, and only he could give it up to the enemy), he had proposed a decoy. He'd been the best man at James and Lily's wedding. He was Harry Potter's godfather. Everyone would guess he would be the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he'd said. More to the point, Remus would guess. He'd proposed they use Peter Pettigrew instead, a diffident young wizard of mediocre talent. At the last moment, the Potters had agreed, and Peter Pettigrew had been their Secret-Keeper.

Only Remus hadn't been the spy, any more than Sirius had. It had been Peter Pettigrew, the coward, afraid of the Dark Lord Voldemort's wrath, wanting to be on the winning side, and, (Thea thought) perhaps always a little resentful of his smarter, more powerful friends, that had been informing on the Potter's movements for months. And when James and Lily had made Peter Pettigrew their Secret Keeper, they had sealed their doom.

Of course, Sirius Black had been the only one to know, when James and Lily were killed. The rest of the world had indeed thought he'd been Secret Keeper. What he had designed as his friends' protection had in fact led to his downfall, and it had been a simple matter for Peter, when Sirius tracked him down, to shout an accusation, cut his finger off, and blow up the street, faking his own death and proving Sirius' guilt beyond the shadow of a doubt in those dark times.

Peter had spent twelve years in hiding as a rat (At first, Thea didn't understand this, either, but then she recalled that once Remus had mentioned Peter could turn into a rat at will), while Sirius had been rotting in Azkaban. And, from what Thea read, she supposed that things might have continued in that state forever had not the family in which Peter had been hiding won a prize and been photographed in the wizarding newspaper. Peter had been masquerading as a family pet, see, and for whatever reason, Sirius had both seen the newspaper, and been able to recognise Peter for what he was. Remus hadn't been very clear on how that had all happened. Thea reckoned that on his end, he understood what had happened. It hadn't occurred to him that Thea would be absolutely clueless, just that he was overjoyed and wanted to tell her.

At any rate, Sirius, upon discovering Peter's continued existence and his location, had been unable to see the man that had betrayed Lily and James, that had framed him, and murdered all those people, continue walking (or scurrying) free. He'd broken out of Azkaban (again, Thea wasn't sure exactly how, and it unsettled her a bit. Did people break out of Azkaban often, on a whim like that?) and gone after Peter.

Coincidentally enough, the rat Peter had been hiding as belonged to Harry Potter's best friend, Arthur Weasley's youngest son Ron. And so after an entire year of failed Hogwarts break-ins, Remus being half-worried to death, and everyone thinking Sirius was actually out to kill Harry, Harry included, the whole thing had come out on a full moon not three weeks ago.

Thea thought that if Remus' story was a bit muddled, that was why. In the end, she came up with a few facts. a)That Sirius Black was innocent. Remus, Harry, and two other students had seen Peter Pettigrew, and heard him confess. b) That Remus had transformed, untamed by his potion that night, and come into dangerously close contact with those same three students and another, unconscious man. c) That no one had actually been hurt. d) That Peter Pettigrew had nonetheless escaped in the confusion, and Sirius Black was on the run, still a criminal in the eyes of everyone but Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, his two best friends, and Remus himself, but no longer seeking vengeance, and e) That in the morning, the man that had been unconscious during Peter's confession, who was the same Potions Master that Remus had mentioned before disliked him, slipped to the student body that Remus was a werewolf.

Remus also told Thea that though he did not know exactly how Sirius got away from Hogwarts in the end, being a monster at the time the event had occurred, he strongly suspected that Harry Potter and his charming young friend Hermione Granger had had something to do with it. He'd received a letter from Sirius just last week, borne by Iris. She was a gift, from him.

_I misjudged him so badly. All those years ago, I should've known, I should've asked. I should've visited him. Wasn't I the fair one, the one that always questioned everything? Didn't I know better than anyone that things aren't always as they appear? They never even gave him a trial._

Thea looked down at Sirius' mad face in the photograph. Her mouth twisted. No mention of how _Sirius_ should've asked, she noticed. How _he_ should've looked beyond appearances. It seemed to her that the entire sorry convoluted tale could've been avoided if Sirius, Remus, and Peter all three had been open and trusting of their friends. If Sirius had talked to Remus, realised he owed too much to good men to sell out to a bad one. If Remus had talked to Sirius, and asked questions before he judged in anger and grief. If Peter had just believed that his friends could be strong enough to actually win the war against Voldemort. She tapped the Xerox article thoughtfully.

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave," she quoted, eying Iris. Remus wasn't thinking of how Sirius had messed up, as usual. But she just bet that Sirius was.

Twelve years in Azkaban. She didn't know what all went on there, but she didn't need a newspaper clipping to remember the picture of how Sirius Black had looked after his escape. The image was there in her mind, vivid and terrible. He'd had twelve years of solitary confinement to reflect on his grief and the injustice that had been done to him. If he hadn't been mad before, on November 1, 1981, he surely was now, or near it. Let alone that he was no murderer. Thinking over his case, Thea was at once pitying and afraid for him.

And for those that loved him. She looked over the lines of Remus' letter.

_He's back, and he's innocent….I'd thought I was all alone after that day…I'm pretty sure Harry helped him get out…Sirius says he's been in touch with Harry. I know he'll keep up with him. James and Lily were better than family to Sirius, and now Sirius will be better than family to Harry. _

"Oh, dear. God help him," Thea murmured. "God help them all."

She held out her arm to Iris, who was clicking her beak and preening to clean up after the sausage. Iris eyed her, then primly stepped on, talons gripping Thea's denim jacket. Thea took her upstairs to the study, and sat down to write.

_Remus,_

_ What about Pettigrew? Not that I think you and Sirius should have killed him. I'm very glad Harry had the sense to stop you. But it seems to me that Peter Pettigrew is a man with no conscience. Now that he's been found out and driven out of hiding, there's no telling what he'll do. And without him, there's no case at all for Sirius' innocence. _

_ Oh, I do hope Sirius Black knows how to take care of himself. It doesn't sound like it, from your letter. He sounds more careless of his safety than _you_ are of yours, and that's saying something. And Harry Potter, he'll love both of you with all his heart now, simply because you love him for him. If something ever happened to either of you- and it does seem likely…but never mind that. I'm probably worried over nothing, as usual._

_Remus, I'm so very glad Sirius turned out to be innocent. I'm glad you have one of your best friends again. Gladder than I can say. But…I won't blame you. You do far too much of that yourself. You went into a complicated, dangerous situation (I still can't tell exactly what happened that night after five rereads of your letter) with no aims but the safety of your students and the discovery of the truth. In the confusion, it's really no wonder you forgot your potion. But it has made a mess of things, hasn't it?_

_I can't see how you resigning your job made it any better. It wasn't your fault, any of it. You're still an excellent teacher and a brave man, and this was the first time there's ever been an incident. And the circumstances were such as will never come around again. Dumbledore even asked you to stay. And, Remus, you did so love teaching. But I suppose there's no point in me going on about it. What's done is done. _

_Iris is too small yet for me to send much else besides this letter. But she is a perfectly lovely owlet, Remus. She just made sure to relieve herself over my wastebasket, instead of wherever, like Archimedes used to. That was a pain, cleaning up before Rhys and the kids noticed. And now she's sitting next to me patiently, muttering in a little sing-song owl voice. But when you get a new address, tell me. I'll send you a dinner our-post. And maybe a couple of books. _

_Remus-next time you write Sirius. He ought to get out of the country. We bought a property abroad in the United States two years ago, in Florida. We were going to sell; the family hasn't been back for over a year now. But if Sirius likes, the address is -, FL -. There's a key buried in the potted palm on the left side of the door. _

_If he does end up going there, don't tell me. I don't want to _know_ that I'm sheltering a fugitive. I don't see us visiting in the next six months, and I can distract Rhys from putting the property on the market for at least that long. They'd never look for Sirius in a Muggle vacation house in the States, would they? Or at least, not very immediately. He might be safe, for a while. And if he has sense enough to stay safe, you and Harry will both sleep easier. And when you and Harry sleep easier, _I'll _sleep easier. _

_God help you all. _

_ All My Love,_

_ Thea _

One month later, regular post, in a hot-pink envelope with a parrot stamp from the United States and no return address, Thea received a very large check. The money it contained amounted to six months' payment on the Florida property. The envelope also contained a single sheet of parchment upon which was written in a bold hand the following words.

_ I don't know you, but you must be one hell of a woman. Thanks, not only for me, but for him. _

The message was unsigned. But Thea knew who it was from. She took the check to the bank, receiving the entirety of the sum in cash, so that none would go into the family account to be wondered at. Some of it she used to buy the kids new clothes for the autumn. The rest of it, she filtered in over the next year with the profits from her writing, little by little.

* * *

**A/N: If it's confusing, it's supposed to be! Imagine trying to explain what happened in those last chapters of PoA, when you were a werewolf, and out of your mind for half of it. Then imagine being a Muggle, reading your friend the confused werewolf's account of the affair! I hope you're all very, very dizzy. PoA is my favourite Harry Potter book. But man, that plot is convoluted and complicated in the worst degree. Come to think of it…that might actually be why it's my favourite. Hmmm. (Not really, it's my favourite because Marauder-era characters are so much more messed-up and fun than anyone save Harry, Neville, or Luna and we get more on them in PoA than anywhere else in the series.)**

** I didn't anticipate the Thea-Sirius exchange at the end of the chapter. But it just forced its way in. That's happened a lot in these stories. The Thea/Remus almost-romance, the Harry Potter encounters, and now the concealing of a wizarding felon in a Muggle author's vacation home, **_**none**_** of it was planned. But I hope for all that it's neither impossible to believe nor completely unenjoyable for my readers. Harry does say in GoF that Sirius sent tropical birds from someplace warm. **

** Anyway, did you catch the conflict I'm building? I hope you did! But more on that next chapter, "June 1995". Review!**

** God Bless,**

** LMSharp**


	7. June 1995

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, you know the drill. On with the story!**

* * *

VII.

June 1995

There were no letters for nearly a year after Sirius Black's note in July of '94. Thea was a little sad, but not really surprised. For a long time, Remus had been in a sort of limbo. Much longer than Thea herself had been. But now, she thought, things were coming together for him. Sure, his best friend was an alleged murderer, still hiding out from wizarding law someplace (she sent a Christmas card to the address in Florida, but it was returned undeliverable and she knew Sirius had moved on). Sure, he was probably changing jobs every few months, barely making it from week to week. But he had friends, solid friends now. He was beginning to piece a life together, she felt. And that was good.

Besides, she had her own life, her own worries. Alice started preschool. Andrew was old enough now to be curious about everything, and he was. He took apart clocks, dumped cereal out on the floor to group in tens behind the locked bathroom door. He and Riley had recently taken a violent dislike to one another (it would pass, but for now it was extremely annoying), and Alice had decided _both_ her brothers had cooties. Rhys was away more often than she would like. He had written a couple of essays that had impressed some important people, and every now and then they wanted him to go on lecture tours of the country, talking to literature professors or high school commencement groups. Faith had her first baby in January. On top of all that, Thea was now editing full length novels from Crossroads, and she'd run into a wall on her own latest project.

So when Iris swooped in the open bedroom window and landed in the empty space where Rhys ought to have been sleeping one night in June 1995, Thea was almost annoyed. But she woke up nonetheless, turned on the lamp, put on the spectacles she wore for reading nowadays, and read the letter Remus had decided to up and send out of the blue.

It was a short epistle, but at the end of it, Thea was wide awake.

_Take care. Keep an eye on Riley, Alice, and Andrew. Your husband as well. Keep them close. Voldemort is back. _

_ -R. Lupin_

Iris flew out the window again without waiting for a reply. Thea Ramora didn't sleep that night.

Voldemort! The Dark wizard that had killed James and Lily Potter, and so many others, that had tried to kill Harry Potter when he was just a one year old baby. Remus had told Thea a little more about Voldemort, after that night thirteen years ago when he had revealed his magic to her. Not much, but enough to give her an idea of what he meant by "Take care".

Voldemort was one of the bad ones, one of the wizards that controlled the minds of others, tortured, and even killed without a second thought. One of the ones that found pleasure in power, that thought all the weaker ones ought to be dominated or destroyed. He wasn't so very different from the Muggle madmen that had sought dominion over others by any means necessary. Attila the Hun, Stalin, Hitler. The difference was that while those others needed the sword, or a gun, or an army, Voldemort needed only his wand. He could kill people by the dozens with no more than a word and a wave of a little wood stick. And he had. He had done unspeakable things to himself, things that meant that when his curse had rebounded off Harry Potter thirteen years ago, he hadn't been killed, just defeated. Temporarily. And now he was back.

Thea knew what it would mean. For wizards. For ordinary people, like her and her family. For the wizards, it meant war. A massive bloody power struggle that would be over who knew when. The last war, Remus had said, had lasted years, about a decade of fighting and death and loss. It would be especially bad for Harry, Thea knew. However he had done it, he had defeated Voldemort last time. There was a prophecy wandering around that he was Voldemort's doom, or something. The kid was fourteen, maybe fifteen, still in school, and now he'd have to take on Voldemort once and for all, or be killed. Voldemort couldn't afford to let him live.

For the ordinary people in Britain, it meant mysterious disappearances. It meant screams in the night, and strange attacks from nowhere. That's how it had been last time. Wizards like Voldemort, they would have to consider people like Thea and her family as little better than beasts, just because they wielded no wands. It was always that way, with the tyrants. Throughout the ages, nothing new. But this tyrant had magic. And he had been incredibly powerful, and presumably now was again.

Thea shivered as the grey dawn broke outside her open window. A door creaked downstairs. Steps sounded on the staircase. Thea blinked. She was still sitting on the side of her bed, staring down at the scrap of parchment Iris had brought. She crumpled it quickly and shoved it in her nightstand drawer and stood up as Rhys came into the room. He tossed aside his travel trunk.

"I didn't think you'd be up yet," he said softly, closing the door behind him. "I'm home."

Thea shuddered. She looked hard into Rhys' clear blue eyes behind his spectacles. His dark brown hair was mussed, and she spied some silver threads in it right over his ears. His shirt was wrinkled. He smiled at her, though, that slow, searching, smile that still made her feel weak in the knees. Thea walked into his arms without a word. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and hugged him tightly. Very tightly.

"You were supposed to be here yesterday evening," she mumbled into his shirt.

"My flight was delayed. I did call," he began.

Thea shook her head. "Shut up," she said. "Shut up. I'm glad you're here." She moved her arms up to encircle her husband's neck and kissed him. "Glad you're safe." She kissed him again. "I love you."

Rhys' arms held her tightly. "Did you miss me, then, Thea-girl?" he murmured. "I wish I _had_ been home last night." He kissed her nose, the sensitive spot right where her neck met her shoulder, her lips.

Thea's heart felt full to bursting. She sighed softly. "Won't be long before the kids are up, now," she murmured. She brought his hands up to her mouth, kissed them, kissed his lips again.

"Damn it, you're right," Rhys groaned. So he wrapped his arms around her again and hugged her tightly. Very tightly. "Well. Later then. Help me unpack, love?"

Thea nodded. She squeezed followed him to the bed as he heaved up his travel trunk. She helped him hang up the clean clothes, and sort the dirty ones for washing. In not five minutes she heard doors opening and a sleepy yawn.

Andrew. "Right on schedule," she said under her breath to her husband.

"I can't wait until they're all teenaged and learn the value of _sleeping late_," Rhys replied as they heard three year-old footsteps go down the stairs to the kitchen. He'd be into the cereal in a minute.

Thea laughed in agreement, but then her eyes fell upon her nightstand. "Rhys- darling, don't leave again, okay? When they ask, just say no. At least for a while."

Rhys' brow knit. "I don't like leaving, Thea-girl, but we agreed that the compensation Mr Biggs was offering was worth it."

"Well, it's not," Thea said. "Never mind about the money. I don't care about that, anyway. We'll sell the vacation home. We don't have to go to Edinburgh this year, either. Just—I miss you. We all do. We need you here."

Rhys' face softened, and Thea knew he'd agree before he said so. She wondered, briefly, if it'd be enough. If maybe they oughtn't to leave the country all together for a few years, and live abroad. "All right," Rhys said. "If it means that much to you."

"It does."

Maybe she'd been a little too quick to answer. Rhys looked at her, and now he looked worried. "Are you all right, Thea? You look tired, and a little ill. When did you get up this morning?"

"I didn't sleep," she said.

"Thea," he said, putting down the jumper he was folding. He went around to her and hugged her again. "It was just a thunderstorm, love. Just a delayed plane." He kissed her forehead. "Let's go make breakfast before Andy shuts himself in the bathroom again."

Thea didn't correct his assumption that she'd stayed up all night worrying about his delayed flight. She didn't tell him what was actually worrying her. And she didn't mention that maybe they ought to move abroad for the next few years, that it might be a good cultural experience for the kids, good inspiration for their writing. She didn't say any of that. Instead, she put on her dressing gown, and went downstairs to help her husband make breakfast, in a world where Voldemort had returned.

* * *

**A/N: Yay! I actually liked this chapter much better than the two previous ones. It plays into where Thea is and who Thea is now much more than the others. And it shows just where she stands in relation to the wizarding world. **

**It'll be important to keep in mind, in the next two chapters, that while Thea is powerless in the big scheme of things, she is not in fact entirely passive. She has thirteen years of memories of the wizarding world, and counting. She has been helping a wizard and a werewolf to break the Statute of Secrecy all this time, and keeping his secret from everyone else important to her. In addition, you know Remus won't have told all his friends all about Thea. It's safe to assume even Sirius that's stayed in her vacation home doesn't know the whole story. Remus doesn't like looking weak or needing help. And it's not like he's out looking to give the MOM an excuse to arrest him, either. And, though nothing's between them anymore, Remus still feels like he owes Thea. He still cares for her, for the sake of the history they share. **

**So. Yeah. I'll just leave those thoughts to roll around in your heads for a while. In the middle of a war. Sweet dreams. I'll update…eventually.**

**Nah, just kidding. Probably sometime within the next two weeks. I've got XIII outlined, and most of IX written. Leave a review!**

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	8. June 1996

**Disclaimer: Go read the books if you want a plot. I have none.**

* * *

VIII.

June 1996

The next year, the letter was similarly short.

_Sirius is dead. A Death Eater killed him. Voldemort is gaining strength. _

_ -R. Lupin_

Like the year before, Iris flew out before receiving an answer. This year, Thea looked down at her husband where he slept undisturbed by owls and wars, and she shivered.

Sirius Black was dead. Not by the Ministry or the bounty hunters, but by Death Eaters. There was a story there, but she wasn't to learn it. But she didn't need to know how his death had come about to know how it would be affecting Remus and the young Harry Potter.

Years ago, she thought, a death like the one he'd just experienced would have brought Remus to her door. She'd have known when to speak and when to be silent. She'd have known exactly what to put in front of him to eat, and exactly how hard to hug him. But years ago there hadn't been a war on. Years ago, Remus hadn't been fighting in it.

She wouldn't know what to say, if he came to her now.

_How do these bloody wars go on when all I see is an increase in the number of missing persons in the paper, a few pages back from the front in small type print? _

_How can your world be caving in on you when my family sleeps safe tonight, when I can hear Riley snoring in the other room because he caught that summer cold? _

_How can magic, the same magic that enables fairies to fly and dishes to wash themselves, lead to such dark times and such horrible losses? _

_Is Harry all right? _

_Is he staying with people who love him? _

_Is there someone to tell _him_ that the sun will rise tomorrow?_

_ Do _you_ remember yourself? _

_Are you alone, or do you have friends grieving with you, this time? Fellow warriors in this fight? _

_…Thank you, for confronting the monsters so we don't have to. _

_God keep you? Or is there a God in heaven, where you are tonight? _

All these questions and more danced in Thea Ramora's head that warm, fair night in June of 1996. She pictured Sirius Black lying dead. She couldn't grieve for him. She didn't know him. She only had the memory of laughing words on a textbook pages and two pictures of a madman, an alleged murderer to remember him by. And two lines on parchment, in a hot pink envelope.

But she grieved for Remus Lupin's grief. She grieved for Harry Potter.

Thea Ramora didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to write. She didn't have an address for Remus, anyway, even if she had been able to come up with words. Not now. So Thea wiped the tears from her eyes, wrapped a blanket around herself to quell the shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature, and got out of bed. She knelt beside it, and she prayed for light in the darkness for an old friend, fighting it with she knew not who, she knew not where.

* * *

**A/N: It's all up there, this time. Tell me what you think. **

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	9. January 1997

**Disclaimer: Apologies to those who feel I might have butchered Nymphadora Tonks. She's not my character, see, and I feel clumsy handling her. **

IX.

January 1997

One night, Thea woke up to the sound of the glass in a downstairs window shattering. Her adrenaline spiked, and at first she thought it was a burglar. She reached for the phone, to call the police. But then a wailing noise pierced the night and a bright light filled the windows of the Davison house.

"Damn it!" a voice cried out. "This one's protected!"

Another voice spoke an unintelligible phrase, and Thea's hand stopped on its way to the bedside phone. Her heart began beating faster. Much, much faster. _Not here, not here, oh, please not here. _Rhys put his spectacles on beside her and got out of bed slowly, quietly, so as not to make a noise. The second voice spoke up. "It was. The charm hasn't been worked this last year or more. And there's not a witch or wizard near the place. C'mon, Avery."

"Someone might come," said the first man.

There was an unpleasant laugh. "Let 'em. The Dark Lord'd thank us to get rid of blood traitors and Muggle-lovers."

Thea closed her eyes tight, tight, and forced herself to breathe. _She should have got them out, she should have said something! _Rhys ran his fingers through his hair helplessly, looking around for anything he could use in their defense. Thea sprang out of bed. "Don't _bother_, Rhys, please," she hissed. There was another unintelligible shout, and more glass broke downstairs. "Go- grab Alice and _get out. _I'll get the boys. We can't—"

"We'll go next door and call the police," Rhys said, nodding.

Thea shook her head. "No, no, it wouldn't work! Just _go_, Rhys! We'll meet you in the backyard. Don't find them. Avoid them. Run!"

Without waiting for an assent Thea sprang out of bed and tore down the hall. There were footsteps on the stairs, slow. These people were savouring her family's terror.

"I hear you scurrying up there, you little cockroaches," a rasping, mocking voice sounded around the corner. "Come out to be stomped."

Thea swallowed and slipped into her sons' bedroom. Riley was sitting against the wall, knees drawn up against his chest and eyes wide. With one hand he clutched a fistful of his quilt. With the other arm, he held his five year old brother tightly. "Mum," he mouthed. The word wouldn't sound past the fear that clogged his throat. Thea knew. The same fear clogged hers.

"Honey—Baby, you have to climb out the window, okay?" she breathed. The door down the hall—her and Rhys' bedroom—there was a crunch as it was kicked in. Thea bit her lip to keep the tears back as she prayed her husband had gone. A laugh sounded again. She continued whispering instructions to Riley.

"Onto the roof, down the drainpipe, and out the back gate. Go to the grocery on the corner. Find as many people as you can to stay with you."

Riley hesitated. His hand clutched his brother more tightly. "Andy?"

Andrew was still too small to get out. "I'll take care of your brother, Riley," Thea said. "Just go!"

Riley swallowed, nodded, and with Thea's help, wrenched open the bedroom window and climbed out on the roof.

Thea didn't wait to see him climb down. She heard them leaving the bedroom now, coming down the hall. She picked up Andrew, as heavy as he was. She could feel the blood pounding in her skull. She could hear every little noise they made. Dark Wizards. Death Eaters. In her house. Would she and her family be missing persons in the paper next week? They were in the study now. She heard wood crunching as it was destroyed. She heard another shouted spell, another cruel laugh. And then there was crackling, and Thea smelled smoke. Fire!

Thea Ramora bolted with her youngest son. She raced for the stairs. She half-fell down them, carrying Andrew. He had started to whimper. "Mum, I'm scared!" Behind them, she heard a shout.

"There! Down the stairs! _Stupefy_!"

Without looking behind her, Thea dodged to her left. Andrew cried out. The red jet of light just missed them. It hit the blue vase on the table at the foot of the stairs instead. The vase shattered. A piece of glass flew out and hit Thea's hand. She started to bleed.

Thea staggered forward. She all but threw Andrew down and pushed him, hard, towards the back door. He didn't even need her to tell him to run. She ran after him, but she heard two cracks behind her and stopped in the doorway as the Death Eaters materialised in the back yard.

They were going to die. Rhys cried out and a scream—Alice's—rent the night. Thea ran out of the house to see that Rhys and Alice had made it down. Rhys was on the ground. He'd been thrown off the masked and cloaked man he'd obviously thrown himself at, the one that had been waiting for Thea and Andrew to emerge from the house. He'd landed on his right wrist. It was hanging at an odd angle. Behind Rhys, Andrew had run to his older brother. Riley had scraped up hands from his climb. He was trembling, and his face was pale. But he'd thrust Andy behind him, back towards the wall of the house, which was starting to smoke.

And Alice—Alice was on the ground, writhing and screaming. The second cloaked figure pointed a wand on her. He was laughing, revelling in the little girl's pain. Thea saw all this in a millisecond. And she acted. In that moment, it didn't matter anymore that they were wizards, that she could not do anything to stop them that would work, that Rhys' attack had already failed. White hot fury coursed through her, and all that mattered was that this was her home, her family. And the girl screaming was _her daughter_. Unarmed in her nightdress she sprang at Alice's torturer with a cry. Rhys rose, too, his face twisted in pain, and began staggering back towards his sons.

There was another crack, then, right before Thea could reach Alice's assailant. A third hooded figure materialised, and waved a wand. Thea was thrown several feet. She hit the ground hard. And Alice kept screaming. The man that had disarmed Rhys before turned his wand on him again, and Rhys yelled as a gash appeared on his arm.

Thea was winded. Her hand was bleeding badly, and all her limbs ached, but she climbed to her feet to face the third Death Eater. The figure was waiting. Beneath the skull mask, Thea saw a smile.

Then there were two more cracks as two other wizards Apparated into their midst. Thea almost despaired, but then she saw in the light of the half moon that these were bareheaded and unmasked. _This one's protected! _The words rang out in her head and she thought, _someone cares_. The two new wizards turned their wands upon the cloaked assailants.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

_ "Stupefy!" _

Alice stopped screaming.

One of the spells missed, but one of the three Death Eaters fell to the ground. The other two turned to face the newcomers. By the light of her burning house, Thea saw lights leave wands. She heard the strange words of the spells as the wizards duelled. Rhys came forward and picked up Alice with a hiss. His wrist was broken. His arm was bleeding badly. Thea fell back with him to where Riley and Andrew crouched, watching the wizards with wide, fearful, uncomprehending eyes.

Alice still quivered and jerked in Rhys' arms. Tears ran down her face, and she whimpered. Andrew came forward and grabbed Thea's hand so tightly she felt the circulation stop. But she held his hand just as tightly.

Cracks and hisses came from the burning building, bangs and shouts from the duelling wizards. The two Death Eaters had fallen back now to stand near their fallen companion, and the two challengers were standing back to back. One of them was much shorter and slimmer than the four others. The higher, ringing tone declared that she was female. And the man—the man fighting off the Death Eaters was tall and thin, and Thea knew _his_ voice.

They all watched. Rhys jerked his head. "Now's our chance," he said, his voice choked with pain. "I don't know what's going on, but we can get out now. Call the police, the firemen. Hospital. Help me with the boys."

Thea reached out and seized Rhys' arm. "We _can't_ do that. Darling- what could they _do_? Just wait—please."

One of the woman's spells connected them. A Death Eater yelled in pain and rage. Then there were two more cracks. The Death Eaters disappeared, one bearing his already fallen comrade. Their two rescuers turned, and Rhys saw the man clearly for the first time.

He was already as tense as a coiled spring. Now he went very, very still. "The man—I _know_ that man. Thea—what's going on? That was your friend, wasn't it? Lucas, or something."

"Lupin," Thea said. "Remus Lupin."

She spoke quietly, and Rhys turned. The blood from the gash on his arm was welling up onto Thea's fingers. She didn't let go. "Thea-girl," Rhys said, just as quietly, but far more intensely. "What the _hell _just happened?" There wasn't a shred of doubt in his voice that she could answer.

She opened her mouth, but the woman's voice cut her off. "_Aguamenti_!" she cried, turning her wand upon the house. A jet of water came out of the end and hit the fire, just turning into a blaze, with a hiss. Remus followed up the jet with one of his own. The two of them, with repetitive jets of water, stopped the fire. Then the woman looked at Remus, and they nodded at one another. With one cooperative sweep of their arms, the smell of burning left the air entirely. Thea looked up, and saw the scorch marks on the side of Riley's bedroom wall fade, and she somehow knew the wizard and witch had repaired her entire house—at least the exterior.

"It's magic, mum," Andy whispered. "They're magic."

Thea pressed her lips together. And Rhys just stared at her. Remus went to the fence and began muttering, with his wand out, but the woman came over to kneel in front of Thea and her family.

By the light of the woman's wand, Thea was just able to make out a young, heart-shaped face and sympathetic grey eyes, framed by shortish brown hair. "Wotcher," she said softly to Rhys. "Your daughter?" She looked down at Alice, still quivering and sobbing. Stiffly, Rhys nodded. "Let me look. I can help."

Rhys' fingers tightened on Alice, instead, though both he and Alice let out noises of pain. "Who are you?" he demanded of the woman. "What just happened here?"

Thea swallowed. "They were—I think they were Death Eaters, darling. And this woman—and Remus—they fight them."

"What in God's name are Death Eaters?" Rhys snapped, and the woman gave Thea a sharp glance.

But all she said was, "They're bad news, sir. Now let me see."

Alice's eyelids fluttered, and Andrew and Riley leaned in to see her. Andrew's lip was trembling, and there were tear-tracks on his face. Rhys at last loosened his hold on Alice. He looked hard at Thea, and then at the woman. Thea nodded.

"It'll be all right, I think."

The woman put a hand to Alice's forehead, pausing as she noted Rhys' own injury. Then she called, "Remus, I think I'll take the protective charms, actually. The man's got a nasty gash—curse wound, and a broken wrist. Bad cut on the woman, abrasions on the eldest boy, and the girl here's been hit with _Crucio_."

Remus, over by the fence, stopped what he was doing and walked over. "No one is better at healing charms than Remus," the woman told Rhys by way of assurance. "In the Order, that is."

Rhys only shook his head in outraged confusion as she rose. As Remus knelt to take her place, the woman squeezed his shoulder. Remus looked grim, and wouldn't meet her gaze. Or anyone's. Like his companion before him, he put a hand on Alice's forehead. "With your permission?" he asked Thea.

"Daddy, it hurts!" whispered Alice brokenly.

Rhys, though his jaw was tight, nodded. Thea nodded, too. Remus' wand lit up and he pointed it at Alice. The light was soft blue, and as it moved over Alice's limbs and torso, she gave a sigh, and relaxed. Her eyelids fluttered again.

"What are you doing?" Riley demanded. "Are you—are you hurting her more? I'll—I'll stop you!" he darted forward from where he stood behind Rhys and Thea, fists clenched.

Remus shook his head. "Your little sister's been hit with the Torture Curse, Riley Davison," he said in a quiet, even tone. "I'm repairing the muscular damage it did her. She'll sleep for a day or so, but then she'll be just fine."

Riley looked hard at Remus. "How do you know my name, sir?"

Remus didn't answer. But Riley didn't press him. Andrew piped up from beside Thea, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Why did they come? Why'd they do that to Alice? Why'd they burn our house and make mummy scream?" Two fat little tears welled up, and he stammered, "Will they—will they come back?"

Remus' companion had finished whatever she had been doing. She came back and knelt down in front of Andrew. "No, sweetie, no," she said to him. "I renewed the charms Remus here had over your house, and made 'em stronger, hey? If those Death Eaters can even see your house, it'll be more than I expect of them. You see, they're mean, but they're kinda stupid." She made a comic face, and Andrew smiled hesitantly up at her. Then she frowned. "Remus," she muttered, "I get why you dashed out of headquarters like the bloody devil was after you now. Sort of. But why are we still here? You know protocol. Will you? Or shall I?

_Protocol. _Thea knew what she meant. Fear curled up in her stomach again, and Rhys' head came up. "Pardon me, madam," he said shakily. "I think I must be missing something. My family was attacked just now. It's clear to me that you have just saved our lives, but I'm sorry if I don't understand just how. Who are these Death Eaters? Why did they come here? Who are you? And you just said Lupin here had 'charms' over my house? Andy—my son—he said just now…if I didn't know any better—"

Remus cut him off. "I can fix your arm and wrist, Rhys, if you like."

Rhys nodded, and watched as Remus Lupin turned his wand upon the burned hands and they healed, as the gash the Death Eater's curse had given him stopped bleeding, and sealed itself up.

"This _is_ magic," he breathed.

As Remus healed Riley in his turn, Thea squeezed her husband's arm. "It is magic, darling," she said. "There are witches and wizards, and they use magic. Some of them are good, and some of them are bad. And right now, they're having a war. The Death Eaters—those are the bad ones, like criminals, or a better analogy would be Nazis, I suppose, since if they win, the things they do won't be criminal. They don't want to share the world with people like us, that can't do magic. They didn't need a reason to attack." She swallowed. "You've seen it in the news." She wasn't sure she should continue. Alice was sleeping, but Riley and Andrew were watching her, taking in her every word. She clenched her bloody hand, though, before presenting it to Remus to be healed. They needed to understand what had happened tonight. So she went on, voice strained as she felt her skin cells knit together.

"All those people who have gone missing—and—"she broke off. The horror of what had almost happened to them washed over her again. She swayed slightly where she knelt, and bit her lip 'til the blood came to keep back the tears.

Andrew hugged her arm. "But they saved us, Mummy," he said, pointing at Remus and his friend. "These people saved us. They're winning, aren't they?"

Thea couldn't answer. Honestly, she didn't know. So she hugged Andy back, and called to his brother. "Riley, sweetheart, can you take your brother inside?"

Riley frowned. "The bad wizards hurt Alice," he said. "I want to know about them, and why you and Dad couldn't fight them."

As Thea had explained things to her family, and as Remus had showed no inclination to leave, the grey-eyed witch's face had been growing steadily graver. Now she grabbed his arm so tight her knuckles went white. "_Remus_," she hissed.

Remus' face twisted. Guilt, guilt. A hundred different types of it could be seen upon his face. For a split-second, he looked at Thea. Then, "I'm so sorry," he said at last. He pointed his wand at Alice, sleeping in Rhys' arms. "_Obliviate_," he said. At the same time, his friend worked the spell on Riley. Remus turned his wand on Andrew. "_Obliviate_."

Rhys would have leapt up were it not for Alice. He'd begun to relax, but now he was tense all over again. He looked from Thea to the wizards to his children. But Alice's face, which had been tight and troubled in her sleep, relaxed. She sighed and turned her face into Rhys' chest happily. Riley and Andrew's eyes went out of focus for a moment, and when they came back in, they no longer seemed to see Remus and his companion. Andrew yawned.

Thea swallowed. Her stomach felt like lead, but she said what she was supposed to. "Riley, take your brother inside. It's far past both of your bedtimes." Her voice rang out hollow in the darkness.

The boys didn't notice. "All right, Mum, you don't have to nag," Riley said good-naturedly. He came forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Love you. 'Night, Dad."

"G'night," Thea said. Rhys' lips had become a hard line. He said nothing. Andrew yawned again, and seeming not to notice his father's fear and anger, he left Thea and$ hugged Rhys' arm. Rhys' hands tightened on Alice again, but he remained silent as Riley took Andrew inside. Thea waited a little.

As soon as the boys were inside and up the stairs, the woman tried to raise her wand again. But this time, Remus grabbed _her _arm. He was looking at nothing again, very determinedly avoiding the gazes of his friend, Thea, and Rhys all three.

"Remus—protocol," the witch murmured.

"Wait a little, all right?" Remus snapped back at her.

"_Damn_ protocol!" Rhys burst out. "Was that protocol, just now? What the hell did you just do to our children? I thought you were supposed to be the good ones!"

Thea felt sick. "Obliviate," she told Rhys. "It was a Memory Charm, Rhys, to make them forget what happened tonight. They're not hurt."

Rhys let out a hysterical bark of a laugh. "Just like that? Wave a stick, a cut vanishes. That's one thing. But they won't remember anything? The house burning. Alice. Even Alice won't remember?"

The grey-eyed woman smiled, a bit sadly. "It's for the best sir—er—Mr…"

"Davison," Remus muttered. "Rhys Davison."

"Mr Davison. What could she do? What could any of you do?"

"About the Death Eaters. About the war. About _magic_." Rhys laughed that terribly unfunny laugh again. And a third time. He spread one hand under Alice's head helplessly. "Maybe nothing. But we sure as hell can't do anything if you wipe all our memories of the threat! What if they come again? What about our friends? They—those Death Eaters—they come to kill us, but you two, whoever, whatever you are—you're keeping us from defending ourselves with your Memory Charms. That's almost as bad!"

Remus flinched, and even the woman looked troubled for a moment. But at last she said, "I'm sorry. It's our law that you can't know about us."

"My _wife _knows," Rhys countered angrily.

Remus went pale as the woman nodded slowly. "Yes, she does. I was wondering about that. Remus—why here? This isn't close to your place. Why did you come tearing out _here_? Why does she know?"

Remus seemed to be doing his best to sink into the earth.

At the woman's tone, Rhys turned pale, too. "Thea?" he asked her quietly. "How _did_ you know? You've been jumpy a couple of years now." He paused. His eyes darted to the shame-faced Remus. "You've always known, haven't you? Even all those—" he broke off. "You aren't a—" he couldn't say it. "Are you?"

Thea could feel time stretching as the night waited for an answer. It occurred to her that her right hand was all prickles as the blood started recirculating where Andrew had cut it off. She looked from Rhys to Remus to the strange witch's grey eyes full of suspicion and—was that hurt? She didn't want to get Remus in trouble. She couldn't lie to Rhys. All three of them watched her. Alice sighed contentedly in her sleep, and a bird started singing in the bush. Thea opened her mouth to give an answer, but then closed it, helpless.

It was Remus' friend who moved, in the end. She darted forward suddenly and seized Thea's wrist. She pressed it a moment, and then dropped it, looking all at once very tired and sad. "She's not a witch. She's not even a Squib, is she, Remus? Muggle clear through."

Rhys shook his head at the words 'Squib' and 'Muggle', but nevertheless got the essence of the speech. He was a writer, after all. He looked from Thea to Remus, then back at Thea. "Well. At least you haven't lied about _that_," he said quietly. The emphasis stung like a whip lash. "But if you're not a—not a witch, then _he_ told you, didn't he? He broke the law and told you."

"I'm getting that idea, too," said Remus' companion. Her tone had gone flat.

"You never told me?" Rhys continued. "You must've known when this war started- you told me not to go out- but we could've been prepared for this. We could've left."

He was right, he was _so _right. Thea felt a hundred different types of guilt herself, now. "Rhys—it wasn't my secret—I—"

Rhys looked down at Alice. His face fell. "And _his_ secret was more important than _our_ safety? Thea—" He looked tired, too. The corner of his mouth lifted ironically. He looked at Remus. "It was your protective spells, wasn't it, Lupin, that made sure you got here at all? That light, that wailing, from before. You _knew_ we were under attack." He fell silent, and laughed humourlessly again. He ran a hand through his hair so that it stood on end.

"Thea-girl, I thought—"

"_Obliviate_," Remus muttered. But in the split second before his Memory Charm hit Rhys, Thea saw something in her husband's face change forever. In that instant he looked so sad, so lost, so disappointed in her. There was a distrust in his eyes that had never been there before, and she knew, even as they went out of focus and his expression cleared, that things could never be the same again between them.

"I—I," Rhys stammered. "I forgot. Why are we out here in the cold, Thea?" Remus and his companion had vanished for him now, too. "Did Alice fall asleep out here? Bless. I'll get her upstairs. Don't be too long, love." He bent in and kissed Thea, and gathered up Alice.

But right before he went inside, he turned, and frowned.

The door shut behind him. Thea stood up. So did Remus and the woman. And at last, Remus met her gaze. There was a heavy pause. "Thea, I am so sorry we were late," he said finally. "Dora's updated the protective spells. I swear this will never happen to you again."

The tears Thea wouldn't shed in front of her children fell now. "It shouldn't have happened this time, Remus! Any of it. The broken glass, the fire, Alice. Rhys was right. I _should_ have told them, or at _least _insisted on living abroad for a while. Those screams—I can still hear them in my head—" She broke down sobbing, but Remus didn't move to comfort her. He watched her helplessly.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Don't be," Thea said, catching her breath and looking up at him. "You _saved _us, you and—Dora, is it? You had protective spells on me, after all this time?" She gave a wet little laugh. "Thank you. Thank you. I could say it over and over for a million years and it wouldn't be enough. But she's right, you know. It's not fair. Or _legal_."

The words came out in a jumbled up rush, but Remus understood. Awkwardly, he stepped forward. He patted Thea's shoulder once. "I owe you," he murmured. "Don't cry." Then he stepped back. "Dora—just leave her. Can you? Will you? For me?"

The woman Dora laughed, much like Rhys had just moments ago. "For you? What, like I followed you out here into a fire fight just because I couldn't stand it if—" she broke off. "What right have _you_ got to ask _me_ anything, Remus Lupin?" she demanded suddenly, stepping up and prodding him in the chest with her index finger. "You think I'll just _do it_, whatever you ask?" Her lip trembled, and she looked like she might burst into tears herself.

"Dora!" Remus pleaded, and something in his tone got Thea's attention. She stopped crying and went still, looking from Remus to Dora. Remus ran a hand through his hair. His face was full of a pain Thea had only ever seen a shadow of before, years and years ago.

"What's she to you?" Dora said. She shot a glance at Thea. "God, is _this_ it? Is it _her_, Remus?"

"No! Dora," said the poor man. "I'd have told you if—I'll explain, I promise. It's not _that_, you know why we can't—"

"Fine!" Dora said, and a rebellious tear leaked. "Just…fine." She glared at Thea, turned on her heel, and Disapparated.

Remus looked at Thea, opened his mouth, and turned, too. There was a final crack. Thea was left alone. She shivered in the cold January early morning air. Her heart hurt for Remus and this woman Dora that had reminded her a little of Rhys tonight. But she knew it would break in the morning when her family came down to breakfast with bland, happy faces and she alone bore the terror and the burden again. She went inside, to clean up what needed to be cleaned before Rhys and the children woke up.

* * *

**A/N: Okay. This is not the original chapter I posted yesterday. In the original, Rhys had a handgun he tried to use to defend his family. A reviewer pointed out that gun laws were different in the UK, especially after a 1996 school shooting, not unlike the one we just had in Connecticut yesterday morning. I took five minutes to look up UK gun laws- something I should have done beforehand- and saw that indeed laws have been much stricter there since 1968, and perhaps for good reason. **

**I'd like to apologise to both my US and UK readers for any offense caused. And my love and condolences go out to the families of the people shot at Sandy Hook Elementary. **

**I'm sorry. And I hope the revised chapter hasn't suffered any for the revision. **

**LMSharp**


	10. June 1997

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and events belong to J.K. Rowling**

* * *

X.

June 1997

Nights were the worst. Every single night since that night in January, someone woke up in a cold sweat, or even screaming. Thea had figured out on her own after the first fortnight that the Memory Charm only does so much. Asleep, Rhys, Riley, Andrew, and especially Alice, remembered how their home had been invaded and the terror they had felt. She rushed to a bedside, and sometimes more than one, every night. She kissed away tears and sang lullabies until she was hoarse and held her children for hours when they were too afraid to sleep. And she listened with a heavy heart every time she asked what they had dreamed, and they told her that they couldn't remember.

Days, though, were scarcely better. Every morning, there were new names in the paper. In small print, with telephone numbers beneath, saying "Missing: If You Have Any Information, Please Call-". The silence Thea had kept so long voluntarily was choking her these days. She couldn't speak, she couldn't write. For a while, the children had been grumpy. Sleep deprived. They'd adapted, but their cheerfulness was just as bad. They lived with the nightmares now- the memories by night, and the ignorance by day.

There were problems with Rhys. If Thea said she would be out, instead of smiling and asking her to pick up some little thing on her way back, now Rhys asked where she was going, and who she'd be with. She caught him frowning at her every now and then. He'd asked her not once, but repeatedly, if there was anything she wanted to tell him. Reminded her that she could tell him anything. She would tell him she was going to work, going out with Sarah Scott, or the people from church. She was getting the shopping. Just like she did every week. And it would be true. She would tell him no, she didn't have anything to tell him, she was fine, everything was fine. That was a lie. And it burned her throat. She would ask him why he wanted to know, ask him didn't he trust her? He would say of course he did, say he loved her, and kiss her. But then he'd frown thoughtfully, and say he didn't know what had gotten into him lately. Thea would want to tell him. But she wouldn't. She'd swallow, and push aside her supper, and feel a little sick. And then she'd go to bed. But the thrashing would wake her a few hours later. Or the screams.

It was especially foggy and rainy lately, and that didn't help. And everywhere there was the sense that something was moving behind the scenes. There was the sense that something bad was hanging over the entire nation. Or maybe it was just Thea that felt it.

She started wishing that Remus hadn't intervened for her that night. She started wishing that the Dora woman had wiped her memory, too. Then when she had nightmares, too, she could wake up and forget that they had happened. Then she could go from day to day like there wasn't a war raging all around her, like she was just an ordinary woman. Because she _was_. She was just ordinary. Then maybe Rhys would still doubt her, but she could look him in the face and tell him everything was fine, and she wouldn't feel so damn guilty. But then, she thought, Remus and Dora had only tried to wipe the one night from her family's memory. What would have happened if they had tried to wipe sixteen years from hers? The Memory Charm might not have worked at all. Or it might have driven her mad.

One night in June, Thea couldn't sleep. No one had woken up yet. No one had called for her. But her body had adapted to an erratic sleep pattern. The yell would come, eventually. So she sat in the kitchen, feeling stretched and so, so, tired, with an untouched mug of peppermint tea in front of her. It had gone cold. There was a rapping on the window, and she jumped. Screams and fire and flashing lights from wands ran through her mind and before a split second had passed Thea had sprung right up out of her chair and hurled her mug at the window, prepared for a fight. The tea splashed out. The mug clattered to the countertop. And an owl hooted loudly in alarm.

Heart racing, clutching at her robe, Thea stood still a moment. It wasn't a Death Eater. Of _course_ it wasn't a Death Eater, she thought, furious at herself. She'd seen Remus and Dora cast the new charms over her house. The barn owl landed on the kitchen windowsill and tapped again. Careful not to slip in the spilled tea, Thea made her way over to the window and opened it, thanking God that the mug hadn't shattered to wake Rhys and the children up and give them new nightmares. It had been sheer luck that it hadn't.

Iris sat on the kitchen table nervously, shifting from foot to foot and blinking at Thea as if afraid the strange woman would hurl another mug at her. Thea laughed wearily. "Sorry, girl. I didn't mean to scare you," she said in a low voice as she mopped up tea with a rag. "It's been a while, hasn't it? All year. And you're supposed to wait for a reply this time?"

Thea's quiet tone seemed to settle the owl, and when Thea had finished mopping up the spilled tea, Iris allowed her to stroke her head. Then Thea noticed that the bird carried two letters, instead of just the one. She blinked.

"What's this, then?" she asked, taking the first.

The first was in Remus' familiar handwriting.

_Thea—_

_I wanted to apologise again for what happened to your family in January, and to apologise for leaving so suddenly that morning. You didn't get half the explanation you should have. _

_I won't insult you by asking how you're doing, or how your family's doing. I know enough about Memory Charms to know that, especially after particularly traumatic events, they're paltry solutions at best. You're probably having some trouble right now. And that's my fault. I should never have let the protections over your house get so out of date. You're probably fretting yourself to flinders now. _

_I recall speaking to you once, many, many years ago, in defence of ignorance against the perils of magic. It was before I had told you about our world and our wars. And I thought, then, that it might be better for you if you never found out about the evils and pain magic can bring. Thea, would that I had kept silent! Would that I had! I have a tendency to let my feelings override my better judgment, and I fear that it brings those I love best nothing but trouble. I have always been completely honest with you, though, so I will tell you now: if I had thought it would be safe, I would have broken my promise to you that night, and used magic on you to wipe your memory of the Death Eater's attack on your family, of the war that we are fighting. But I have seen the results when wizards try to wipe memories too old, or spanning too long a time. And as much as I hate what I saw done to you, and hate how I know you are feeling right now, I could not bear to be the instrument of your madness._

_Albus Dumbledore is dead. Killed, by Severus Snape. Death Eaters have infiltrated the Ministry of Magic, and those of us still fighting fear it is only a matter of time before they take our government over completely. Casualties mount daily. Voldemort is active, and worse than ever, and beyond those that fall in battle, fighters are deserting our side. They're afraid. _

_Those of us that are still fighting have one overarching priority. We are doing our very best to protect and aid Harry. Albus Dumbledore believed that he was our best hope, that he was the only one that could end Voldemort for good. Were it any other seventeen year old boy, I wouldn't believe it. But Harry—he will fight, Thea. He has always fought. He has survived things none of the rest of us have already. It's a long shot, but I think he has a plan. He just might save us all. I hope he does. I hope it doesn't destroy him. He is my student, my friend, and all that is left of my old friends, the ones that started fighting this war with me. I have to believe in him. _

_At any rate, if this owl reaches you still in England, leave. Take your family and go. Whether Harry pulls through and gets us all out of this, or whether he doesn't and Voldemort takes over at long last, things are going to be messy and dangerous. You'll be safe abroad. _

_Iris carries another letter this time for you. Dora wanted to write you, too. God help me, Thea, but I do love her. I hope she knows. Whatever happens to all of us, I hope she knows I love her. _

_Don't worry for me, Thea. As things have panned out, it looks like I'm the one in the least danger, here. As ever, it is I that may have turned out to have brought danger to others. Nevertheless, I cannot quite regret all that has happened. I'll be damned, for sure and certain. Perhaps I'll meet Sirius Black again in hell. _

_Get out, Thea, just get out. If Harry's all I think he is, someday you might be able to come back, and we might meet again on a happier evening. Until then, make the best of things, as you always have. _

_I'm so, so sorry. _

_Wishing you and yours all the best, _

_Remus_

Thea felt emptier than ever after finishing Remus' latest letter. She looked at the other missive, and despite the feeling that it would be pointless to read it, could only make her hurt more, she couldn't stop her shaking white fingers from breaking the seal and opening the letter.

The letter was shorter, written in block letters that had been used to fill out a lot of official paperwork. The letters were bold and rounded, and Thea read a brave and individual woman's character in them.

_Dear Mrs Davison, _

(ran the letter)

_When Remus said he was going to write you last week, I knew I had to send a couple lines, too. I didn't understand who you were in January. What you'd done. He told me, after. And I felt simply terrible. _

_It seems to me that you just about saved his life all those years ago, and I know you've been a good friend to him all this time. I don't blame him for telling you about us, or for wanting to keep you safe. _

_As a matter of fact I owe you. If it weren't for you, I don't think the man I love would have survived long enough to meet me. We're getting married in the morning. _

_A lot of really bad things have been happening. He'll have told you, in his letter. People are suffering and dying. But I can't think that it will end badly, not now. You should go, like he says, but you should also know I think it'll all be all right. My old teacher, Mad-Eye Moody, he always says "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" And Professor Dumbledore always said love is the strongest magic of all. We have the two of them, those of us fighting old Voldy. How can the darkness endure?_

_My husband's friends will all be mine, Thea, so you should know, too, that I'll always help to protect you and your family. And I'm an Auror—a professional fighter of Dark wizards. Damn good one, too, if I do say so myself. _

_Remus says you'll be thinking of us, and praying for us, and happy that he's found me, even though you probably have your own problems. Thanks for that, okay? I hope someday the two of us can meet in peacetime. I'd like to talk. You sound brilliant. _

_I send my Blessings,_

_Dora Tonks _

Thea swallowed, very hard, and this time it didn't hurt. Her eyes stung, and this time they weren't tears of grief and bitterness. Dora Tonks'—soon to be Dora Lupin's—letter felt like the warm rays of sunlight that should have been warming the summer earth.

She did wonder if Dora's optimism wasn't unwarranted. She scanned Remus' letter again, and this time different phrases caught her attention. Instead of focusing on things like the death of Albus Dumbledore, his regret for her problems, and his fear, the third-and-second-to-last paragraphs seemed to scream out at her as if they had been written in red ink, circled, and underlined. Thea sighed.

Then, she made a bit of toast for Iris, and went upstairs. It was very early morning, the coldest part of the night. A fog was rising outside the study window, and it reminded Thea of the smoke that had filled this room that night in January. There was no trace now of the fire that had burned then, but Thea remembered, and she knew there were fires like it that burned all over England right now. Fires that would be gone in the morning, with their every trace eradicated.

She got out her pen, though, and on a sheet of paper, she penned the first words she had written in months.

_Dear Remus and Dora,_

_ I don't know what to say. Words have abandoned me lately. I go to work, or to the shop. I take the children to school. I come home and look over Rhys' latest efforts. But I cannot write myself, nor can I find words to speak. The sun rises, the sun sets, and everything seems to be fine. But it's not, and it feels like I'm the only one in the world that knows that. _

_ Don't blame yourself, Remus, for what has happened here. Dora, don't let him. I'd worked out already that if you'd tried to follow protocol, and wiped my memory in January, I would be having much worse problems than the nightmares that the children face. If you had never come at all, though, I wouldn't venture to say where me and my family might be. Remus—don't you regret for one moment what you shared with me all those years ago. I wouldn't have missed it, any of it, then. I loved meeting fairies in the park. I loved it when you would tell me about mermaids and dragons and the days you spent at Hogwarts. And to both of you—despite everything, I'm glad I was his friend, and I'm glad I was able to be there when he needed me. I'm very glad you were there when I needed you. And I don't grudge you the fretting myself to flinders. Better that—yes, it _is_ better to know and to care and to hurt than to forget. I had started to wonder, I'll admit. But it _is _better. _

_You are both so brave, and so good, to be doing what you're doing. It's my honour that I knew you, and in the middle of this, I'm so glad you found one another. Dora—you're one of the luckiest women in the world. Remus loves you very much. He told me so, but I already knew. I could see it, even after the Death Eater attack when I was still reeling. Remus—you know you're lucky. You don't understand why she loves you, though. You're getting married, but you're still holding back. You won't let yourself be completely happy, and you blame yourself for your happiness. _

_ Don't. Unlike you believe, you don't have a habit of giving into your emotions. Quite the opposite. You have a habit of overanalyzing, and feeling like you owe the world an apology merely for existing, and running away from the things you want most. Don't. Let go, Remus. Let go. And Dora? You hold tight. I don't know you very well, but I get the impression you're good at that. _

_ Remus says in his letter that he has to believe in Harry Potter and in his ability to win this war with Voldemort. Dora says in hers that with constant vigilance and love, she cannot imagine how all of you can possibly fail. I don't know about Harry Potter. I've only met him twice, briefly both times, and before he entered your world. But I know that Dora is right, and not just about the war. With constant vigilance and love, a great many obstacles may be overcome. Thank you. It was something I had nearly forgotten. _

_ I urge you both not to forget. Hold on tightly to your love for one another, and your vision of what is right. Keep your faith and your courage, and persevere. For my part, I promise to do the same, abroad, for the time being. I thank you for the warning, and like you, I hope we may all meet again one day when this is over. Remus and I are overdue for a long conversation about nothing in particular. And Dora and I have never had one, but I can assure you it will be my most positive pleasure. _

_ I will be praying for you, Remus and Dora Lupin, and for all your friends in this underground war. Be safe. Be strong. Fight well. And be happy each day the sun rises for the joy you can find in one another. _

_ I apologise—I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to write again. I think I owe you two thanks for that, too. You've given me back my voice, or at least the will to try to speak. _

_ All my Love,_

_ Thea_

* * *

Thea sent her letter to Remus and Dora back with Iris. She sat at her desk then, writing 'til the morning. An essay, about hope and courage, and how they showed themselves most clearly when things were at their worst. She tapped it thoughtfully as the sun rose up, and went upstairs. For the first time, her children and husband had slept all the night through. She went downstairs to begin to cook breakfast. She'd tell them, then.

She'd tell them things _weren't_ fine. She wouldn't betray Remus and Dora, or subject them to their memories again, but she would say that much. She'd tell them she'd been stressed and depressed lately, that she'd felt the family was growing apart. She'd suggest a change of scenery, a time living abroad. Rhys could go back to delivering lectures—she knew he'd missed them. The atmosphere would be brighter, and she needed the inspiration for the new series of essays she was working on. The one she'd decided to publish in the England papers, where they might be seen by passing witches or wizards at war. The one she'd decided to title _When Days are Dark._

* * *

**A/N: I'm not sure how this turned out, actually. I really, really like parts of it. Others I think might ring a little OOC or just sound kind of funny. I'd appreciate your opinion.**

**The last installment will be coming soon-ish. I say "-ish" because I have written it a dozen ways already, and may write it a dozen more before I decide which is the most plausible, and which is the most artistically done. I don't like shabby work…**

**So. September 1998. Coming soon-ish. Leave a review for this chapter on your way out, please! **

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp. **


	11. September 1998

XI.

September 1998

Thea and her family lived in Toronto for a year. Thea used the year to spearhead the Crossroads Toronto opening, prepping an all-Canadian team to take over the business there. She also spent a lot of time by the lake, writing essays for the _When Days are Dark _series to send back home. Rhys went back to lecturing in cities across Canada and America, though not as prolifically as he had done in Europe. When he was home, he took an active role in the education of the children, as both he and Thea had always done.

Things got better. After about two months, Andrew and Riley stopped having nightmares. Alice still had them, even after a year, but they had become sporadic, and shorter. And eventually, Rhys stopped asking Thea where she had been when she came home. Instead, he started asking her to go places with him again. They started calling in a sitter once a month, and going out. They talked like they hadn't done for months, and laughed like they hadn't done for years. And then, one humid sunny morning in the summer of 1998, Thea woke up, and thought that maybe it might be safe to go home.

The Davisons returned to England in August of 1998, and Thea didn't know how she knew it, but she knew things had gotten better. The fog had gone. And when she checked the back-issues of the national news, she saw that there had been a blow-up in daytime owl-sightings and fancy dress parties back in May. But there was no letter addressed to her with a quill pen when she collected the mail that hadn't been forwarded to Toronto. There wasn't anything out of place in or around the house. Thea shrugged it off. Remus was married now, and the war was over. He was probably busy.

The kids enrolled back into their respective schools. Riley would turn eleven in December. Next year, he'd be headed off to Rhys' old alma mater. Alice and Andrew were growing, too. Andrew would be seven soon. He corrected anyone that called him a little boy now. It made Thea smile, seeing him answer back so smartly with three teeth missing. But he was right, too. He wasn't a little boy, anymore. Soon he'd be a boy proper, and his older siblings would turn into monsters for a time as they navigated the murky waters of puberty. Thea was not looking forward to that.

So she smiled, that morning in September when her children filed out with their father to head to school, and they still let her kiss them good-bye. She kissed Rhys, too. He'd be heading to a meeting at a university concerning the translation he was currently working on, and probably wouldn't be back until late. As for her, it was her day off.

Thea sang a little snatch of a tune as she headed back inside her house. She sat down at the piano—Rhys played quite well, and Alice was learning, but the best she'd ever done was to learn one note from another. Still, she had her song books, and she took one out and plunked out the melody happily enough. Then the doorbell rang.

Thea frowned. She hadn't been expecting anyone today. No one had called. Their address wasn't a listed one, either, so it was unlikely to be a salesperson. Nevertheless, Thea shut the song book and got up from the piano. She walked to the door and peeked out the peephole.

A stranger was standing on the step, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Thea blinked, and opened the door. "Yes, can I help you?"

The tall, slender young man on the step looked down at her through his round spectacles, and he smiled somewhat awkwardly. "You're Thea Ramora Davison. I remember you. Er…I…"

Thea stared at him. He looked somewhat familiar, but before she could do more than feel a little awkward and defensive the young man had brought up the object he was holding. He held it out for her to see.

Thea recognized the book, even though she was having trouble placing the man. It was one of hers—one of the silly little children's books she'd written early on in her career. About ten, eleven years ago now. It hadn't been a particularly inspiring one, just a bit foolish, this one about Sylvia. But this copy had been read so many times the cover was falling off. Thea could barely make out the title. Threads poked out at the top of the disintegrating spine. Thea took the book from the young man gingerly and opened the creased pages. They had been stained; it looked like, by many, many late night secret snacks. Thea took in a long, shuddering breath. There had been people, over the years that had written to tell her how her work had inspired them. She had done her school visits, even lectured a few places, though she was still nowhere near as popular or as widely read as her husband. But she could think of only one person that would care enough to seek her out and show up on her doorstep with _this particular_ book in this semi-creepy way.

Thea read the words on the first page of the book, written in ink in her own hand. They were faded, as if someone had run fingers over them countless times.

_One day, Harry. I promise. Your Friend, Thea Davison_

Thea looked up at her visitor. He regarded her with anxious green eyes and ran a hand through his very, very messy black hair. His fringe parted, just briefly, and Thea looked down before she saw the lightning scar.

Thea closed the book and handed it back to Harry Potter. She bit her lip. Her stomach had suddenly turned into a rock, and it weighted her down and nauseated her. There could be only one reason Harry Potter had come to her doorstep today, after everything, with a book she had given him when he was eight years old. There could be only one reason why he would need to.

There was a long pause. "Give me a moment," she managed at last.

"Sure," Harry said. Thea didn't look at him. She heard in his tone that he knew she knew.

Thea left her front door open and went back to the kitchen. She grabbed a sticky note and scribbled on it.

_Out. Will be back before eight. Call if you need anything. I love you, Thea. _

Then she grabbed her jacket and headed back towards the entrance. Harry was standing awkwardly in the hall, but she shook her head. "Not here. Just—I can't hear it here. Do you mind moving this to town? I can drive…"

"Yeah," Harry said. "No problem." The right corner of his mouth turned up, but his eyes were sad. Thea knew that he was humouring her now, out of plain and simple kindness.

He climbed into the passenger seat of her car without comment. Thea looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He ought to be eighteen now, she remembered, but he looked so much older. He looked…he looked like Remus had looked, seventeen years ago. Like he'd fought beyond human endurance, and lost more than could be borne. His shoulders drooped as if they bore the weight of the world, and his eyes carried the sorrows of the ages.

He eyed her, too. But they were ten minutes down the road before Harry broke the silence. "After I got to Hogwarts, when I thought about you, and that book, I thought you must be a witch. Everyone else I met that knew who I was back then was one of us."

Thea forced a smile. "Yes. I heard you weren't as fond of the attention as one might've expected. I reckon it's even worse now, though, now the war's won. Is that why _you_ came? To get away from the crowds?"

Harry grimaced. "No," he said. "Where are we going?"

"A park on the wrong side of town," Thea said. "Mel's shut down a few years back. I think there's still a hamburger stand, though. I'll get you one."

"Mrs Davison—I—"Harry stammered.

She shook her head. "It's fine. Do you know about that, though? Mel's, and the park?"

Harry's hands tightened into fists. "That's why I came," he said quietly. "I don't know, but I was hoping you would tell me."

Thea was silent. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. She didn't speak to Harry until they pulled into the car park at the park and got out. "It was careless of him to keep the letters," she said, more harshly than she intended to. "I didn't. I didn't want them to find any evidence if they ever…" she broke off. Harry had followed her into the park and onto the path. Now she stopped and turned to him.

"What happened?" she said. "When did he die? How did he die?"

Harry didn't hesitate. Thea got the feeling that he'd had many conversations like this one before, and it only saddened her further. "Voldemort had taken over," he said quietly. "But some of us were still fighting. We found—we found a weakness. Something we could use against him. We made plans. We set him up. And then he found out. There was a battle on May 7 at Hogwarts. We won. We took back our world. Voldemort was killed and his Death Eaters were too. Or they surrendered. Or they were captured and put on trial. But there were casualties. A lot of good people died." _Now_ he hesitated. "Remus and Tonks were two of them."

His voice shook, but only a little. They hadn't been just good people to Harry. Thea realised Harry Potter had loved the Lupins, and loved them well. But he was so used to death, and had said something similar to someone's friend, or family member, or lover so often, it barely touched him anymore. Thea couldn't feel like that, though. She was devastated.

"Dora, too?"

"There's more," Harry admitted. He pulled out his wallet, and opened it. He showed Thea the picture inside. Thea blinked, at first not comprehending. The picture was of a tiny baby boy, one with amber eyes and chubby little fists that waved at Thea, as wizarding photographs were wont to do. As she watched the kid's little shock of hair changed from bright red to jet black to turquoise to purple. She blinked.

"He's a Metamorphmagus," Harry explained. "They can change their appearance at will. Tonks was one, too."

All at once Thea got it, and her knees buckled. Harry caught her elbow and led her over to the nearest park bench before the first racking sob hit. "How—how old?" Thea asked him as tears streamed down her face.

"He was days old. 's name is Teddy Remus Lupin, after his grandfather, and his father. He lives with his grandmum. She lost everything but him." Harry spread his hands helplessly then. "I'm godfather."

Thea swallowed, and nodded. She wiped her eyes with the shirt sleeve of her jacket. "'There is nothing new under the sun,'" she quoted. "The war is over, and a brave couple died defending their kid. That child is an orphan now, and some other know-nothing kid's stuck as godfather."

"Yeah. I know," Harry said. The bitter ironic amusement he packed into those three words made Thea look up at him.

"November," she said quietly. "November 1981. I was a waitress at a café called Mel's, trying to make ends meet. A university student. Common as the cold. Except Whit Blake left that night, so I took over serving the last customer in the café. It was late. I was curious, and a little bit lonely. So I talked to the guy. I let him stay late. He came back three weeks later, and we talked again. And again, and again."

Harry's hands clenched again. "The first letter Andromeda Tonks found was from December 1983," he told her. "You knew him right after the war, then. After Voldemort killed my parents."

"And Sirius went to Azkaban. That's right. Remus didn't trust the Order at the time. They'd thought he was the spy—I think because he was—"

"Because he was a werewolf," Harry finished, looking very angry. He swore under his breath, viciously. "He told you all of it? You knew everything?"

"Not right away," Thea explained. A breeze blew, and Thea watched the leaves blow off the trees and down the path. "He was very strong, and he didn't want to break the law. Mostly, I think—mostly because he wanted to keep me out of trouble. But…" she shrugged. "He was alone. And I was there. He told me his friends had died about two months in, and that one of his friends had gone to jail for something horrible. I worked out that it had been Sirius Black. That was before your people had quite finished the damage control, modified everyone's memories, and gotten the cold case investigators to rule that those thirteen—well, twelve—deaths had actually been down to a gas explosion, and not a bombing. It's probably still in the old papers in libraries someplace—you can tell them, if you like, though I don't suppose anyone cares, now.

"When I told him I knew about Sirius Black, that I didn't care, he told me about you, and your world." Thea jerked her chin towards the grove. "There are fairies that live in there, or there used to be. They never come out when I come alone. I haven't seen them in—oh, sixteen years. But that's where he told me. He never told me he was a werewolf, though."

"I don't think he ever told anyone," Harry said, quietly. "You worked it out?"

"With a little help from your dad and Sirius, actually," Thea told him. "…and Pettigrew, though I don't suppose you like talking about him. They'd written in his old textbook. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. As he was lying across from me on his couch, recovering from the full moon he'd missed my party for, it wasn't a really difficult leap.

"That was maybe a year after I met him," Thea said. "We really only knew each other for another year after that. Then your Ministry passed some laws, and he left. He came to my wedding. We wrote, on and off again. He and Dora saved me and my family from Death Eaters last year. I found out then that he'd been looking after me all that time."

Harry was looking at her with eyes that seemed to see right through her. "You looked after him, too," he told her. "I've read the letters. You sent him stuff, made sure that he ate. At least when you could do something about it. That year Sirius was down south—it was you again, wasn't it? He lived at your family's place. And me—you were—you didn't even know me."

Thea kicked at the ground in front of the bench. "No one ever gave Remus a break. But he was brave, and he was good." She swallowed again.

"Yeah, he was," Harry said. "You and he never—Andromeda thought maybe—"he broke off. Thea looked over at him, and he was blushing.

She laughed. "I loved him," she admitted. "Always. There wasn't a place for me in his life, he was bad for me, and I _love_ the life I have now, but I loved him. He—I don't know how he felt about me. I was all he had, I think, for a while. He never forgot it. But he loved your friend—Dora Tonks—he cared more for her than he ever did for me. Enough to forget that martyr complex of his, get married, and have a kid against his better judgment. I never thought he'd do that." She looked over at Harry, suddenly desperate to know. "In the last letter I ever had from him, he said he was certain he would go to hell, but he couldn't regret choosing her. Did he—was he happy, in the end?"

Harry smiled then, a real, honest-to-goodness smile. "Y'know? I reckon he was. The night Teddy was born and he made me godfather was the happiest I ever saw him. Teddy won't be a werewolf, and I think Tonks convinced him in the end that she wasn't an idiot to marry him."

"Good." Thea said. "Good. That was all I ever wanted for him, you know. Thank you, for coming to tell me. How about that burger now, huh?"

She stood up and walked towards the stand. It had been renamed many times since '82, but it was still there just across the way. Harry followed her. Thea ordered her burger—cheese, with lettuce, tomato, extra pickle, and catsup. He ordered his with everything on it. Thea paid for them both and they strolled off.

Thea remembered this, walking in this park with a wizard after a war. She missed Remus, and she sighed, to keep from crying again. She took a bite of her burger. "It's different for you, isn't it?" she asked suddenly. "You have friends, a place to go?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He laughed, but there wasn't any mirth in the sound. "Hard to name someone who _isn't _my friend or a place I'm _not_ welcome."

Thea nodded slowly, chewing. She swallowed. "But there _are_ people that you can be yourself with, aren't there?"

Harry sighed. "There are, yeah. This is really good."

Thea smiled. "It was good then, too." She pressed her lips together and wadded up her burger wrap. "It's over," she told Harry Potter, tossing the wrap into a trash receptacle. "I'm just a Muggle woman, now. No ties to your world. Remus Lupin was the extent of my involvement. I can sign a secrecy act, or something, if you like. For the Ministry, or whatever is left of it."

"Not much," Harry told her. "But Kingsley Shacklebolt is working on that." He finished the last bite of his burger and tossed his wrap, too. "But I'm not going to undo what Remus did, Mrs Davison. I don't want to get you in trouble. I just—Andromeda and I thought you should know, about Remus. And we'd hoped one day—"he shrugged. "I was thirteen and he was thirty-three when we met. He was my teacher. Andromeda and Remus weren't on the best of terms. She regrets that, now. Everyone else who knew him really well was dead. So we were wondering—one day, when Teddy wants to know who his dad was, not during the war, but before then. When he was young. Could we look you up?"

For a moment Thea couldn't speak. Her eyes had filled with tears again. "Of course. Anytime. Always."

They had made their way back to the car park, and Thea somehow knew this was where Harry Potter would say goodbye. Thea reached into the car and got out his book. She gave it back to him without a word.

He tapped it. "You know, Mrs Davison, there's an animal in the magical world called a ramora," he said thoughtfully. "Learned about it once, in Care of Magical Creatures. It's this big silver fish. It anchors ships. Protects wizards and witches from drowning. No one really knows why. There's no reason for it. It just sort of…does. You're a Muggle. Perfectly normal woman. You're married, you've got a family, and you got into all this purely by accident. Except a normal woman would've run, or forgotten us. And you didn't. You held on. I didn't find those essays you wrote during the end of the war till it was over and Andromeda found your letters. You wrote them for us, didn't you? For Remus, and for Tonks, and for me, but for all of us fighting, really."

Thea shrugged and looked down. Harry smiled, then, and she caught that. It was a big, bright, proud smile. And for some reason, though it came from a teenage boy some eighteen years her junior, she felt as if she'd just received a medal for valour from the queen, or something. She looked up, and realised just who was talking to her, approving of her, and what he'd done, and felt very, very strange. Because Harry Potter wasn't a child. He was the general and hero of the victorious side in a war. He held out his hand, and Thea shook it.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" Harry Potter told her. "Thanks. And…I'm sorry."

"So am I," Thea Ramora replied. Then she got in her car, and drove away. Behind her, she heard a crack. Harry Potter had Disapparated. But she knew she would see him again, on some happier day. And perhaps, she would meet Remus Lupin's son, and she could tell him a story about a brave, good young man that had stayed late one night in the restaurant where she had worked. She could tell him about his strength, and his intelligence, and his quiet, sarcastic sense of humour. She could tell him about all that Remus Lupin had gone through, and about all she had seen him gain, over the years. And the sun would set, and the sun would rise, and tonight she would grieve. Winter would come. Harry Potter and his friends would grieve longer, and they would rebuild their world. Then Spring would come, the flowers would grow, and it would be a better world, and a brighter, that Teddy Lupin grew up in than the one in which Harry Potter had grown up before him.


End file.
